Musical voice of trees, Leaves dropped at each flutter. His cries lead in, trees tease, Wind spiraled wildscape. Welded in scale to the heartbeat, so hushed, As shadows beckon and sway. This collection of moments, We salute the sky rising, Above the fields were all eternity runs; Where meets dance of the light. I want the dappled ground, Breath of willows even— Or deep furrows beneath weeds. Treading slowly but alright, Here—is waking time!

• Lorine Niedecker