The thick green moss submerges fallen old wood
muffles thought, swallows light and sound
and softens rounds and smooths all but
the hard old verticals of trunk
pungent pine and raunchy chocolate-scented basswood
black walnut and oaks and sugar maple
Does the walnut spring from the mouth of a corpse
Is the basswood destined to be a basket
Will fire eat all but the elder trees
Life is green here
sun and rain are sustenance
a scattered ray of sunlight breaks
through the leaves overhead and spots
down on a single purple anemone
