where does the wind begin

and how to make      my body      fit

          into the spaces left        in the hollowed trees
I want to surrender to the clay and ash of this landscape

          let the paper daisies remember

                                           only a song
     there has been a story carrying      every night      from the inland

see here        the branches contour against the path it cleaves
when overcome      I push my toes      into the grit of this place

     notice each flower gathered           petalled and leafed
the generosity to keep the whole together

          when every shifting wind      is an invitation

                                                                      to fall      apart