The season settles in strips the trees of leaves the heart
of the matter is weather I have been wind sheared storm
wracked thrown off course and down I have been
all river no shore what drowns you is not the water but
the ice this strict difficult surface refusing to let you go
let you grow replacement parts for what's been cut away
glaciers planted boulder huge stones that bubble up
from the soil I mean the soul from which you make
the walls high and thick from which you fill the holes
till the soil from some semblance of hope your role
in all of this is dimly understood the ways that safety
arises or has passed you by you are neither glacier
nor ground nor harbor breakwater shelter siren
or cave is it comfort or touch that you crave
was it ice that held you down or was it love
