Prelude
A face, places,
The "inside" of a tree
You stand looking up into—
Sieves, a cache, basket
Of light,
Or a tree putting its limbs out
Step after step
Into YES the great spiral—
Your home and your smile.
Fugue
Fire works
On its log
Like a saw
In the shape of
The core
Of the wood.
And the river
Steps down
Through rapids
Repeating
Rock underneath.
Pine cones
Mimic
The tree.
And the pure
Forms of love
Or of what
Love is the form?
The wind moves
Through pine
Over a fire
By the river.