on the damp dark earth beneath us
you become stretching wings of early
light dappled with leaves and gems
of moisture; your breath rises like
a mist of pearls, your little bird voice
flies up, flies up to grasp them
mountains and redwoods pause
from holding up skies and suns
and wonder on the fallen star
that ignites the forest floor into
a blaze of worlds without end
ã 2005 Bruce Jewett
