A Clearing in the Woods
by Thomas P. Lynch
and want to live your life out, here, alone,
joyous and remote among the catbirds
in hourly changing angles as a grace
endlessly descending among tree limbs
mindless of the niggling everyday
uselessly the names and dates and shape of things.
After a while, you will begin to sing.
Harmless and plentiful you make the sounds
you and your song rise in the leafy air
chancy as bass spawn in a mallard’s underwings.