When first i had stepped out into the cold
Quiet of the afternoon i stood alone for a moment
In the perfect stillness of the universe until an echo
In the white-floored woods reminded me of where i was
Here on this hill again listening to the pileates
Testing out their drumming trees calling in their mates
A rapping tapping call to spring
To hungry chicks in hollow trunks
To broad-winged dipping flight
To always at the end the painted paradise.
—with an image from Ezra Pound and a fleeting sensation from Louise Glück.
