R/ckets and S/ntries

we lost
and in that
tenderness
lunge decree and
veering smoke in
the hill of
West Virginia

there were right
ways and wrong
or clouds
known for
stripmining
and yet the
little brooks
rustle thru
the land

there is patience and
loss
in the
woods and the
city with
strings and
oblate lights
and frequent guesses
in the middle

there are strange
dynamic
power companies and
touches of the
hand
until night is
day and
even day
has night in
moments
dawn thru mist
in the gaps
between hills

there's a great
picture from the
sky a leaf
turns red
owing to its
processes
even an alien
has been known to