Her forest goes as green as love.
Her ferns are dappled near the ground,
and moss they dappled curls above
stones that Her glacier dappled down.

Her night is sadness well-contained
within the sap that runs the stem
of plants that grow along the night
and root at morning.  Joy finds them,

and oceans, lost because they are vast
(like ruined roads left on the land)
take Her kind waters home each time
that they, pushing raptly at the sand,

make tides with Her evaporate rain.
The ocean is at peace again.
Far algae grows, the blue stays smooth,
And in dim light, the beach is soothed.

Her forest goes as green as love,
Her night is sadness well-contained,
and oceans, lost because they are vast,
make tides with Her evaporate rain.

First published in National Poetry Review