Origin

Merwin said on the last day of the world

he would plant a tree

Not for the fruit bearer

but for the one that stands

in the earth for the first time

What for

Wisdom’s genesis  

Innocence.  Wonder.  Remembrance.

That the first and ever ancient spirits are ants and spiders

And the land is God

So when I step out into night I can feel their quiet work

Stare and crouch

with the fervor of one who has unearthed a city lost

to the wrong kind of unknowing

Glance and brood

over either shoulder, wary of thieves

But it’s just myself and the many legged gods

And mountains

whose caps like the crowns of teeth

suggest roots unseen, dark and vulnerable

And trees

whose mortality I know if I too bare my outstretched limbs

That faith in life is moved by

a delicate and dreadful energy that is Love

How can I not feel this

I want the hawk to eat and

I want the dove to thrive

The impossibility breaks my heart wide open

in agony and ecstasy

every time