Morning Poem, January 11, 2017


We made rooms in the forest

Where there were vines weaving between two oaks

We saw walls.

And in the center of the circle we arranged stones

This was our hearth, even though we were too young to play with matches

In mid summer the trees in full leaf

Closed over our heads and made arched ceilings

And we swept our dirt floor and turned a stump into a chair

And gathered Dutchman’s Britches and Jewel Weed from the forest’s edges

 And took them to our palace

And tied the stems with bits of vine for the day’s bouquet



copyright 2017

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