A fresh airy silence,
stirring the stale gunmetal
vault of my memory
and stirring
in the gentle breeze—
old black holes
and new
spring leaves—
I feel a burning need
to move
with the mystery
of each of these
swirling—ringing
the edge
of the pool of my knowledge
just like
the fire burning deep
in the woods which surround it requires
each precious little infinity
of empty
space between its blazing arms.
