Rising day wraps aspen in mist
drifting off the hot spring
pooled in a circle of rocks.
Pine and sage perfume the dawning;
follow where I have journeyed
to the water's edge
disturbing a pair of carrion.
Earth is forgiving beneath bare feet
here in the fold of grounded fog,
so I sit, hands cupped in my lap
like an empty boat between my thighs
and contemplate crows.
