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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