Bones
In winter
The forest becomes invisible
This
Is
When the wood can be touched
Such
Tall
And toppled tenderness
Will not flinch
Beyond
Looking through
The centuries exposed
Forest floor
Floats
With deadfall
So many crisscrossed legs and arms
Windthrow veins
Drained
Of blood
Root system rugged above its quivering skin
Like us all
When life is gone
We are the same
Bone
Remains
Laid down
Foundation
For hares and Perennials
Fungus and fox
Feathered saplings of sun and moon
A risen soul
Someday soon
Erupted
Again
With dahlia sky and spring.
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