Stiff and unrepentent
I wake abandoned in the forest
The trees tower above me
I cannot see the sky

There is no temple here
My pilgrimage is wayward
By ache my bones are counted
Picked clean by the bear...

Fishing in a stream
My feet turn blue and pearly
I stoop and prize an egg-shaped stone,
Cloudy, from the mud

I have lost my star
I stumble to the edge of the forest
The bull is in the pasture
My heart is a burning coal!

The cows are sleeping in the barn
Docile, dreaming,
In the middle of the night
The Moon becomes my milk

Nora Leonard
Cook Forest, Pennsylvania