I wake and once again the trees have come the trees
have once again grown through me in sleep a tiny forest
tiny tangled copse come to populate all the windswept
all the empty spaces dendritic roots curl around cells
as if around stones and the furling tender leaves their
hungry wait for light and now the trees fill with birds
whose wings I feel as faint capillary flutter whose songs
rustle in the blood autumn now and the leaves loosen
begin their fall the tiny spiders move in set about their
careful work stitching leaves back to branches mending
the quilted sky the geese travel over and in the woods
the mist descends everything is indistinct bleached and
pale the mist tastes in the muscles the throat like a chill
when the mist dissipates it takes everything with it
branches leaves spiders their sticky useless sutures
even the trees are gone the spaces full of snow and now
the snow too is gone the spaces are meadows again
are empty again and now this is who is what I am
—Leslie Harrison