I too am composed
of smokelike particles
the cyclical soreness
of heath and earth cloudless bark
blinking against
the tips of the sky
I can’t quite pry my way inside
the lawns’ chlorophyll light
or surrender to activity
entirely unsymbolic
As for leaf milk eternal nature
my own green murmurs
infinitely out of
synch with themselves
I too might leap from my future
from bare knuckle
branches and unbroken
pigment For the sake
of my family please
let no hint of universality enter
Only allow my essence
to whisper into your rings
once that it was here
and once that it was not