October 7, 1973 (I was 28)
October
Walk
It rained through the
night;
it was raining today at
last light.
Electric moss lit the
trees.
Slick leaves and ferns on
the ground
gave light without the sky.
The deer paths needed
hooves,
but I climbed to see clouds
hurdle the west ridge,
dark riders pulling the
wave and tearing away.
First I wanted it all on
film,
wanted to record the
echoing dogs still howling
and the quiet
interrogations of every owl
on this day when the sun
did not appear.
But nobody believes a
movie.
Rising from a stand of oaks
a column of ground fog
found warm currents,
spiraling spirit freed and
fleeing home.
It was perception that made
it all real;
it was a vapor perceiving a vaporizing.
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