To see the world 

Through the frame of words

 

The moon in the sky

Above ponderosa pines

This scent in the air 

Of the rain and wind

 

To catch and pin 

The world to the page

Such tenuous things:

the threat of the storm

the magic behind the dark

 

The things hidden, left unsaid

Alone, unnoticed under tree and star

Dark vermillion forest of pine and shadows.

Petricor from the desert earth, 

Red rocks and sand soaking water.

 

Pulling and stretching, tearing apart

The senses

And pasting them in neat lines

Black on white

With superglued letters

And stuck-together fingers.  

Trying to capture the most un-capturable of things

And falling utterly short.

 

But you cannot stop

Because you see those things

As others do not

The words have shown you how:

 

Of the sun in the high afternoon

The press of the air, the heat from the rocks. 

Or the hush of the deepest night

After the moon has set, while the forest still sleeps

Looking up at the trees, branches clawing the sky

You study the shadows, the shape of that leaf,

The sound of the wind

As it whispers to the mountain.