my willow sisters turn their dull grey backs when I am in this mood
when there’s no bench
no planted tree
no shadowed park where strangers’ children squabble
no corner table where my face
can empty into dreams
without offense
in Utrecht I say clematis climbs out of paving stones
to splash grey walls
and couples laugh in windows
inches from the swirl of bicycle bells
then go down and drink Dutch beer the willows sniff
your departure will not keep the moose
from browsing in our branches
or redpolls from celebrating the seeds
of an unexpected birch
the sacred text unfurling from its trunk
coyote studies everything
her nose tracks the grouse
hiding in the grass
fur feathers and leaves all shivering in some holy wind
you’ll come crawling back
still
some thing smokes out my heart
slides under the barbed wire fence
and disarms me
whispers of windowpanes
of boys on their bikes
arms outstretched and laughing
whooping down
the whole long recklessness into the valley
Questions and Answers
What inspired “bushed”?
I think it speaks for itself.
What poetic techniques did you use in “bushed”?
Hmmmm.