who walked the 

bridge to everywhere 

lay beneath the 

sonorous tree 

striving towards

observation, keepsakes

a small orange butterfly 

and midnight said

place keeping time 

reflective droplet 

suspended, what is 

seen, held, scent of 

subtle mint 

fragments as though

there were anything else 

creeks that meet and separate 

we rejoice loud enough 

for strangers to hear us 

jump all at once, cool 

water soft as songs 

we sing in the dark 

need for others

like yellow apples 

timeless summer

crimson wildflowers 

pressed to creaking 

with smaller yellow flowers 

at the center, and how many 

worlds in this world

selves in this self

opposition and contention 

a lent hour and then on

to others, prayers for togetherness 

to be of use where the 

path ends and possibility 

appears darting across the 

darkening field 

taste of acorn grown

in one soil to the next 

the blade glints 

bared neck silent 

adoration of wells 

exhalation and sinking

in the long slow 

letting go