Tomorrow I will plant;
Maybe not this eve
in overcasted fasting of our forest
when kindred branches hang their
arms in
anguish
Tomorrow I will shift soil;
and sift whispers of deadened
things that were-
and aren't-
and file between my fingers
where they need to
be
Tomorrow I will bury a breath;
as a lifetime's lungs collapse
and anguish draws, like pipe wind
what is left...
but tonight I hold mine...
And tomorrow I will plant.