I am a visitor
In this strange land
Where spring stands still
Light falls in curtains
Through lacy hands
Cupping high above
How did I enter this snow globe forest?
Here, steps are riddles
Not meant for humans
Pink blossomy tresses spread over patches
Burned by fires
Older than us
Like new skin
Healing the veins
Of this shadowy canyon
Pumping blood
To earth’s
Deep heart
First published in Woods Reader Summer 2025 *print only