Water Ways

From my bald perch,
the woody giant made
small by isolation,

          I saw them rise vaporous
          from deep holes and
          mossy coves in wrinkled earth,

Where, resting damp,
their dark forms had descended
even into my breath.

         They rose steaming
         on sun-strings tugged

         taut by day's bright puppeteer:

Towering sky-bison,
worried by insistent zephyrs
and marching east.

         High and mighty,
         the fractured herd took
         each peak in heavy stride,

While below, in shadows
and footprints, I bathed in
their cast-off cool, collected.

         Later, when I returned
         to my low home on land
         slipping sidelong into the sea,

I welcomed their bleeding bulk,

whipped by wind
'til wet and weeping,

         Welcomed weary travelers,
         fresh from the endless
         expanse of air,

Now content to
set again and soak into
this skin of city soil.