Forest as I Know

Fallen leaf gallery of trees
achored to the forest hills,
the slopes of its shoulders
hold ribbons of white fog
where a stag deer is like a man
weary, seeking refuge
inside the sinewy gray.

Hooves stamp the black
in a pat sound, mixed with
the rustle and the damp quiet
smack, pause, smack;
imprinting whole the double crescents--
that imprint the leaf,
that impress the clay,
the sand, and the black organic miniscule
skin, bone, feather, or scale,
(black goodness).

Black that smears the boots,
fortifies the leaf's impact,
the boot prints a single crescent,
and the stag moves as he has
since the dawn of his barked scenery;
rubbing his sides against the trees
that have known our settlers
and usnsettlers watching, fidgeting tobacco,
watching like I am watching,
this great moving picture,
life encased in life, in life.