Humbly I walk the wetlands,
goldfinches spring from sere red leaves
into trees stripped bare primeval.

Ancient caws overhead sing
the timeless, the space of gray
I am in.

Drowsy rodents at hollowed knots,
woody sworls where broods
await winter.

A stream of water diverts to run
the clearing at the eddy’s edge
where the last leaves alight like Giverny water lilies.

Points of light touch my optic nerve,
for a moment the world is inverted
but I’m upside-down so all’s righted.

The air hints impending,
upending each moment
till the next until now.

I scream inside, cry outside,
I ache to grasp the is,
the all that isn’t.

I climb onto a low branch,
a vantage above ground,
my back against trunk for balance.

First small birds then early snow,
alight on my lashes, till I am consumed
in feathery frost.

In thaw I am the vernal pool
that reflects moonlight in
the faces of thirsting deer.

From me erupts the eternal
smaller than life as we know it,
divine, grander than anything not.

Chagall 2018