Genesis

I come to you as leaf

on the tree, which at night

sounds so different. Light

in darkness remains brief

as we strain to find breath.

In the serene we mean to turn

word to verse, but woods burn

and dying breeds more death.

These days, I till the soil.

I tend the ground around

the house we’ve built. We sound

our sounds like birds that toil

through crosswinds and back through

to set feet on the wires

suspended above fires.

And I’ll always find you.