Monday, February 15, 2016


Confluence of Rivulets near Native American Village Site

In the forest, my soul thaws, as though
a layer of ice that holds all the ideas
of who I am, good and bad, has hardened
around my core, and suddenly that ice

melts away. We look for the source
of rivulets that join with larger
streams that cascade down the slopes
in search of a far-away ocean,

our own circulatory systems
part of an eternal cycle filled
with light, the same light
in oaks, grasses, rocks, moss.