Coontree Mtn.

I can breathe again.

Light soulful shadows

taken in from the right,

forgotten from the left,

surefooted as mules

passing upside

the next mountain.

There are places here

where houses should have

been for a moment.

A haiku wavers but

is not mine.

Flat stones

knock against leaves.

A tree caught in the fork of

its neighbor catches itself again

three doors down with its own fork.

A trap against a patch ,

confederate clouds.

Bare branches

spidering this feeling

into my veins,   the

ups and downs of trees,

exposed roots like teeth

chartreuse moss,

hewn ends left for

something deep in my brain,

wood pecker-holes,

wind-driven, creaky doors

driven between earth and sky.

February 26, 2012.