narrow paths
through shaded grass
where small deer
place one quiet hoof,
pause, peer, place another;
above them, tall thin branchless trees
fall easily for burning day.
two yelling children
scurry ahead
of our advancing saws;
inspect standing deadwood
for black and red caterpillars
their sheltering hands shuttle out
to refuge from the flames.
you rise again, old familiar,
borrow my eyes, show me
the gap I take for granted
between tree and tree,
child and earth,
that, always being between,
allows everything.
so, thanks to you,
I am always,
among so many things,
that space in the air
between the narrow trunks
where five trails of smoke ascend
from five small fires.
© Larry Haworth, 2017
through shaded grass
where small deer
place one quiet hoof,
pause, peer, place another;
above them, tall thin branchless trees
fall easily for burning day.
two yelling children
scurry ahead
of our advancing saws;
inspect standing deadwood
for black and red caterpillars
their sheltering hands shuttle out
to refuge from the flames.
you rise again, old familiar,
borrow my eyes, show me
the gap I take for granted
between tree and tree,
child and earth,
that, always being between,
allows everything.
so, thanks to you,
I am always,
among so many things,
that space in the air
between the narrow trunks
where five trails of smoke ascend
from five small fires.
© Larry Haworth, 2017
