Because It Pierces the Earth
You can be in the space between trees
and the space between roots and the trees
they belong to. You can still breathe.
You can make a springy cocoon
from the rotary phone’s curlicued cord.
There are still some places where
you will hear very little
interruptive sound. There is quiet
full of process. An ocean of air
rolls over us, unbeknownst to us,
a baby chipmunk is going to be
born next year, and walk across the place
where your foot is touching a leaf now.
A pine needle has already fallen
since you were resting here,
generations of pine needles
have grown and fallen here for
a hundred years, since the pine’s
birth. A thin strand of grass appears,
green as the trees, and we call it a blade.