pine and wood-smoke
sage and sawdust
the old year died without trying
in March, I said a prayer over the valley
I asked to keep it safe and free
the houses flow in rows and ridges
up to the base of the mountains
rising high above them
skew and idiosyncratic,
in tangles and piles
washed up here, in waves
places like this at the edge of something
should stay free
the spring night is purple, it glows on
the snow-pack, and in the aspen leaves
it was like the end of a dream
it was a good dream--I held onto it for a long time
through the dark nights between then and now
now the world is moving
the gaps open up in the day again,
and the nights are unsteady
one day, I'll walk through a break
in the hedgerow
--between one hour and the next
and walk into a different dream, and
a different order of history
if you walk through the long dark
and sit through the garish night
if you watch the stars rise, lonely
and see the sun-rise far from home
if the streets are unfamiliar
but you find yourself around unknown corners
through hedges, under walls
then this is for you--stay clear and steady
quick-sighted, be nimble
through the long night--
I stand for you--
and may you stand for me also
until the night passes
and the sunrise glows softly
on the hills again
