Trefoil Knot

I both understand and do not

How we are in nature,

And nature is in Us.

It is a cosmic chiasmus

A trefoil knot:

Like when I walk

Under the heavy, white sky

Thinking how similar

Grief sounds to Thief

While everything is perishing,

Or stolen, or falling apart and

Submitting to the ground.

Then these stabs of pleasure, during

Times of stripping away

When the blood surfaces

To the Sycamore leaves.

I am alive and growing larger,

From the roots beneath my feet.

I am also tough skinned but vulnerable,

Now naked, now blushing

With singing all around.

I am to the tree,

What the tree is to me.