1.
away like a swan’s neck
the horizon curves over the water

2.
and blacks itself
like a shutting eye
retreating inward

3.
i feel i am tied to you with a rope of the
rustling seed husks that lie
under the oak

4.
i am the cypress
i move up like a flame when i grow

i am the mountain pine
and i break the rock

i am the oak
i wanted you to be surprised
when you pried
each tight-sealed cup
and touched the seeds inside,
fragrant, bearing a bole
of dense cloud.