the moment a tree

consoles with its rooted

stem that

stands and asserts what

you also bear

toward

the coherence of earth.

A mutual ken

crosses species      between

things that travel

and things that stay

in place. Leaves

give wind

its multiple voice

as they shift

your long recollection

of a soul’s green

night. You are again

a girl. Skip

Skip

Skip the tor

on the pavement.                 Hop

Hop

Hop over chalked

lines. You retreat

from old need.

A dog rests

     her head in your

     lap. A magpie

seems to know

how you feel

about song.