You're sitting here with us, but you're also
out walking in a field at dawn.
You are yourself the animal we hunt when
you come with us on the hunt.
You're in your body like a plant is solid
in the ground, yet you're wind.
You're the diver's clothes
lying empty on the beach.
You're the fish.

In the ocean are many bright strands
and many dark strands like veins
that are seen when a wing is lifted up.
Your hidden self is blood in those, those veins
that are lute strings that make ocean music,
not the sad sound of surf,
but the sound of no shore.

I, too, have seen the woods.