They
grow
the
mountain vines
That
cover
the
hillsides
in
spilling
twined
leaf.
And
in
the
season
when
blackberries
fatten
The
sun rises high
the
breeze
brings
pungent
Hints
of thick
compost
and
late
day rains.
I
hope
to
bring
passage
enough
To
be
at
home
in
the loam
of
such earth
And
in
such
close,
careful
creation
to
finally
rest.
10.6.16