Young friends worth charming.
Beyond the unwild paths,
you haunt away an hour, discovering days and insects,
a jar of earth with no bottom.
The ferns bellowing new fall brown,
the grown crow's sunlit, golden crowns,
past the Buddhists on the banks,
in the triangles of slow water.
It's Saturday shaking the sun,
hiccuping past each jutting rock and glinting rapid,
you
only show the universe.
The roots, avoid,
the branches, dodge,
that leaves a gap of unconscious air
and velocity to fall
from the cliffs
to the flexing rapids of Lynn Canyon
so many seconds below.
Joy in the plundering bubbles born,
my new, uncovered braveness
swims to the cliffs,
still under the sea,
it sits, it squeezes off
and the black tea of the trees
stuck on my neck, discovering me,
weighing more
I casually leave on.
I balance
upon the rocks that act as floors,
harnessing trees,
we are setting scenes
of awareness.
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