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This tree bears no sin unless cracked limbs offend God.
Its red ripe glistens the long lipped grass.
Wing blades pass the clear dark
arched to green pain; rain rivers run;
we back into the coiling kiss
leaves swarm through us.
Dew scales shimmer wet in the morning twine
of silver tongued sparrows;
wind rakes our bare empty
windscape howls; roots snap.
We freeze in the light lap of frost,
naked to the scratch of berrythistle,
naked to the owl moon pass,
afraid to be naked.
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