Black Water Woods

Black Water Woods

 Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars



of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfilment,



the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders



of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what it’s

name is,



is nameless now.

Every year


I have ever learned



in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side


is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world



you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

Tell a friend Tell a friend