First Passion

First Passion

The back porch on a summer night
the greenness in the dark is
watching and is also watched

A gust sends the bristles in
but the roots warm the blood
flows the daze unhazes

Flurries bite and feed the
flame inside it kilns the snow out
side to slopes to hills to worlds

The sun inside is pulsing blind
and tonguing the dark green
grapples seeming ceaseless caseless chaos

Dawn is always ending somewhere
and beginning in the depths of night
noon is shining on the moon in ecstasy.