Undefining where
the line began, finding vertigo
with an inner persistence,

achieving balance
like a ghost embodied
under the guise of sleep.

Creating the connection
between a leaf as it hangs
by a tendril, its breaking

free from the branch
its clung to for months,
and its falling

to the freezing earth
below the wind
as it gusts winter.

Clutching the past
with skeleton hands
and contending for an empire

above the earth as far
as the worms are below, raising
their voices to drown

the snows relentless taunt.  The trees leave
a brown echo of the enemy
that can’t be conquered or escaped.

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