clerestory
froth —dhm 46
nothing left to read but snow
pinpoint moss spores on un broken snow
yr legs choose a path w/out askng
glass... molasses... a snowy wood fungus
this snow crust’s underside moss-print
these woods’ every wood knot god’s eye
hands warm at last you reach those pines
snow melt fur tuft
under pines a feather too long to take w you
rose from sleep leaving these oak leaves troubled
empty moon crater squirrel caches
there’s only moss & then you hear water
stream-ice clerestory
almost blind from looking then snowdrops
you dissolve w filigree stream ice
filigree stream ice gone on yr way
filigree stream ice not long now canoe
a fallen branch gnawed hunger’s length
these woods happily no one
—john martone 2010