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.