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if someone pens a poem in a wood
leaves it there and walks away
does it make a sound?
if someone (I) walk away
leave the poem
among roots or tucked 
in crotch of branch 
who will know?
if a poem in a forest
composes itself to be alone
for always except for wind
and a few leaves falling
how long before poem 
becomes leaf and tree
how long til its song
choirs with the breeze
forgets its speech
shares itself with nest
tucked under hawk’s breast
how long til hatched young
learn to hunt and fly–
cares such a poem
for time or measure?
this poem under sky
this hawk’s cry

Thanks to Tzynya L. Pinchback for the inspiration and initial image for this poem.

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