Ash tree, leaf full, is startled in cloud break sun splash
morning, dropping dew from the crisp spring damp
after a full dark, moonless, cold night.
Gray wren alights, sips from leaf tips, flys away.
Dripping ash,
recovering from this flurry of flight and bright,
returns to calm waiting for lifting air –
forgotten, the shrouding dark, cloud enfolded night.

Awaited air movement comes in soft rush
ruffling sun-soaked green ash leaflets,
blowing to the waiting ground
fresh dew droplets clear and cool.
The wren waits.
Silent worm emerges from nightly repose,
drinks of sun, breeze, cool dew –
becomes gift, gulped in a long stretch.
The wren, satiated momentarily,
takes up a perch once again within the mindless ash.

Portland, Oregon – March 2014