State Park

i.
Snaps bold, impressive
wind as what turns
descendant up-on tree top stoled,
shopped quick in limelight compounding
sunrise its solace
so that
what haste makes for
ash, cedar if then aspen,
appears in driftings,
snowflakes
the teardrops
hearts’ broken footprints
their sought journey
shaped of day
to remain dissipating
in heats chinook lost now,
gone for morning.

ii.
The stint of gesture dispossesses
breaths within the bundle
of feet moved nowhere lain a beach
in travelled stanzas
rhythms once spoke of
to advert a lakefront
the naked eye maims as
undusted pleats, quick storm
abounding with purpose,
Time’s truth relays us—what
tells of here now if/then
cropped-down and delving
such notes to tomorrow makeshift happens
that we stay here, ready assembled
as wind, sand’s trademark, effaces.

iii.
Kept near solitude,
that trap of obsolescence,
is another door
silent out-breaks us
on tacit scenes
up-turned of lines
it happens we composed them,
alone with such rectitude
prominence imposes
for a froth of gravity
sensed its own
of skulled ferns the long trail
remembered, half-stumbled
in memory what it was we walked for;
neat the appendage
indicative of warnings.