Trees of Place
(for Sarah Jarrett)

The spirits of the trees walk the wind
the way the spirits of the mortals walk the land.

Slow fingers, inching skyward,
reaching into place and moments.

Slow roots, reaching downward,
intimately entangling with moist darkness —
her endless and mysterious universe.

The waters rushing endlessly
over and through and within them.

The storms and light whose skies are all their romance.

The spirits of the trees perambulate time’s web
the way the spirits of the dead walk within their children.