fugue

you’ve slept so long
we’ve become something else
not bound by treasured verse
tucked inside drawer sachets

untended and subliminal
this is a new sunrise

so much scenery

forests have their own religion
footfalls find all ground hallowed,
only a few stop
to feel the low hum
beneath
while others charge forward
finding new places to plunder
and still,
there are unending yearnings
for father’s wisdom and mother’s embrace

plotting courses with foreign language
we connect the main points
but miss so much scenery

when noone is looking
we spin as fast as we can
(when did that become a secret?)

broken scenes tucked in pockets
can only be cast on a wind leading away-
back to the beginning,
light steps
and quiet watch
crack the heart
to let earth seep in again,
no clothed shame in truth
when we step as lightly,
listening to wise laughter of twigs

breathing into my scarf
stepping over cracked sidewalks
that have heaved in the cold
all is icy clear and beautiful ahead

it’s only glancing back
over my shoulder
that hurts
because I am not afraid
of what I have not yet touched

on a snowy knoll

standing on the knoll
between firs and clouds
it was jarringly quiet

my breath
was the loudest element
in my landscape

at first I tried to quiet myself
slowing my breath
to join the hush
of beautifully cold winter
but then I chose another way
to fit into the day

I opened my heart
and laughed into the sun

I think creatures
sleeping underground
felt a joyful rumble
and the wind laughed with me

which vessel

which vessel
will you choose
to carry tears?

will it be the same
cracked stoneware
holding yesterday’s crumbs?