Bluffton, Tennessee
If I could cultivate the sun, could
put a furrow in its rays, I wouldn’t
be hunkering in this cave of forms
where the shadowcaster is too
far back in, and I’m too far afraid
to bellycrawl like a baby, who yet
can walk, yet can crawl proper.
I could come out into the day from
the rocky dark of my existence,
the sore elbows, knuckles scorched
from ministering to the torchflame
to find angelica, mandrake, elecampane,
witch-hazel, valley of McDowell
County and see crows convene in
yellow-cropped grass, ginger-
stepping in the season-tilted light:
come late-March snow, the promise
of newleaf medicine and the feral sun.
Header photo by Nature Capture Realfoto, courtesy Shutterstock.