Sunday, November 12, 2006

nostalgia in the midwest

The twig season arrived
before I landed.

I learned botany nearby,
becoming friends with hardwood
and humans.

This weekend, we've fallen together
on the open forest floor,
laughing and kicking up songs
made by dragging feet.

The melody is mixed with sycamore,
burnt potato chip bark of black cherry
and the memorable tangled
chartruese brain of osage orange.

The newest naturalist
has the largest eyes.
We're here to make sure
he won't be
the last child in the woods.

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