- All Points Considered Including Frost on a Mulberry
For Chris Beyers, my love
The past is presentfuture irrelevantin the fieldbeyond a soggychip of red cedar.
It isn't thecry of peacockor the middle C ofthe Baldwinor even the noisy oakunder footin this barren forestof the most leaflessNovember wind.
It's the sighof seahorseand the motionit makeswith its segmentedbody of armorandthe side swaddleof the Carolina June crabsuccumbing toshifting layersof sea bottom.
It's the glassygrass of winterIt's the reflectionof bluedazzling frostcovering afrozen mulberryin a fir wreaththat brings thejoy of sniffingthe wafting [End Page 113]
aroma of the sapof blue spruceand blowing snowthat meldsall points, planesof the plush greenleafy guild ofsummer sunto theabundanceof now. [End Page 114]