6/3
the forest is still as birds hold their tongues in common wish
the forest is still as birds hold their tongues in common wish
i.
The cup I hold is
three quarters full;
One thousand ghosts
assault me in the parking lot,
begging to be said.
Leafbuds half uncurled,
chilled in the spring air, await
their liberation.
Cars, haughty and rushed,
hiding drivers’ eyes and thoughts
from the pensive sea.
Do tulips still grow
in the back by the swings?
Last I saw, their clumps had expanded
1.
Forest floor beneath,
suspended within the green,
Pond shines back moonlight
outlining hemlock branches
turtle slips beneath.
Towering hemlocks, rings of light stirring the pond, silent as the moon.