A free morning with nowhere to be
but afield where i am,
away from man's hate
with the geese wedging over
and the next generation of milkweed
turning to goldfish in their husks.
A walnut falls in the yard
with a rap on the ground as clean
as the crystaline calls of the jays,
and i will move through the day
with the sweet stain of the earth on my hands,
breathing its sweeter decay.
