in
the fall
the tao is what happens of itself
Tao Te Ching
come now
walk the smooth
garden paths down
to shapely long legged ash
the carousels of their leaves
twirling high over our heads is
it too much to ask how their seeds
let go spun down to wet green banks
alighting with others their questions
never asked went unknown to where the
winds took them lay down found homes
within the ground returning through indistinct
rounds no regret no taint dwelling in the hours
the haze not dreaming of other stages places
others to hold them to hear their complaints
how do the trees live with such graces how
do we know to unmask our plays not to
crouch in fear of ending to beckon
follow invisible paths in our
floating days the vacant
quiet swirling
ways
Sandra Dorr (from This Body of Light, forthcoming, Hope West Press)
