Communion
It seems a million miles away
our brother of the pines
grieves for the sap
sharp frozen in the root.
He walks beside the elder and the oak,
he feels the maple silence crack
the soul-deep frost within
and hears his own flesh groan-
He weeps for trees; and fears and wants
the agony of spring;
hopes for the comfort of the apple bud
to come; who watched old branches sunlight
sung,
rooftrees of ancient strength and dignity,
like toothpicks flicked
through lofty powers of air
while we, who drift barefoot among curled
leaves
fear fire among the thorn.
POEMS
FOR FORT WORTH