milky way
in a strange wood
a moonblind horse . . . 
the future gallops toward me
I cast
a fistful of sweetgum balls
on the earth,
try to read their pattern
like the Book of Changes
one leaf
suspended in the ice—
if I could see
as clear as frost ferns
the nexus that enfolds me
the creek half-frozen
half running free
I toss 
into the water
my second thoughts
an altar stone 
beside the brook—
of light and shadow 
pass by, pass by
Arbor Mundi
a wolf tree
reigns over the meadow
an acorn forest,
a wandering child
I took root there 
long ago . . .
a hollow 
in the heartwood
still admits the sky
dappled with light—
the message 
of the mother tree
rising in their veins
the whole story  
of root and branch—
the touch
of a blind sparrow 
on a young girl’s hand
birdfoot runes
imprinted in the snow—
I read 
the windblown passage
of seed and shadow
a strand of silken thread
from the body
of a smiling china doll . . .
this snarled skein of self
man is but
a thinking reed . . .
then what am I 
but blue-eyed grass
whispering a song
a mockingbird
jousts with his reflection—
I slip
through the looking glass
of his yellow eye
I am the osprey 
and the fish it seizes
sparks of light
from the lake within
a grey rabbit 
in the portico 
of a dream—
her body hollow,
her eyes full of light