ASPEN I
We go to green things: cold
pool where the glacier was,
grabbed with claws like the
grizzly down raw shale or granite. That
water's green now, so
broken in its depths by
rift and crag we look down see
hair rising long
strands how they shift not
knot or tangle like
anns we'd swim to so be held
if
we liked that cold.
Or
take another green like
scarves on our arms those
dark pine woods we climbed twelve thousand up by
jeep to come to.
Just hillock off while
friends found wildflowers we
eyes up off frail things off
curls stems leaves stood in
fall of fir and pine.
A
deer's foot had found this
hollow, she'd stood so, this
bark dragged at her flesh.
Yet we
come back from
all
grottoes where rocks, water, all
green, are fish, deer's realm, all
strange, going beyond us, where we
