Descent

Be prepared for darkness

to overtake you unawares,

from the heart of the white sky.

Think how it flows

down the dark mountain,

rubs out the rock face

with its broad thumbs,

erases the edges of leaves

and moistens the bark of the maple

with absolute color.

It closes the door of the clearing

without a sound.

Think how it seeps

into the pores of your skin

and strokes your clavicles

with the touch of fingers

caressing the strings of a harp.

And think how your body

must resonate

with unseen rustlings

and with the myriad questions

filling your bones like mist.

Pinesong: Awards 2009 (The North Carolina Poetry Society)