Consequence and its heavy metals strive toward
transformation
while imprecisely, a silent pine resonates with lake.
Among the assurances of proximity and place, she
floats out,
weightless, over the lake’s flat gaze. Heavy arms
repeated and relieved.
Birds shape themselves to wind. The trees shift,
shimmering as snow sifts its silences.
Shadows send their slender semiselves out like
wishes
that have not yet learned to lift. I sit doubled beside
the pine.
A woman pleads with me from within the lake:
Leave –
Listening to her is like eating a peach right down to
the pit.
Everything green folds to gold and starts again.
Leaden is the death that does not find its way forward.
Harmony must first have been an opposition that
stumbled
into agreement slightly above the departure.
© by Sage Cohen. All rights reserved.
The beautiful Sage Cohen (Copyright by Sage Cohen)
