If you knew who I was now
When I knew who you were then
Would you forgive me before
We ever became them?
The branches dance in the wind,
The ones outside my window
Across from my desk.
I suppose you know the trees
Sleep, my son, and dream of when
we will trace the alpine glens,
and walk upon the wildest ways
where bears have trod, but seldom men.
This tortuous canyon coiling its jagged edges
razors through the sinewed sediments,
deluvinations of painful fomentations
plowing through acres of rock and soil