EXPECTATIONS

(for Tomas Transtromer)

The trees cold as footsteps

alive as phantoms

of early music

when in amazement

March sky covers dawn

from pale first light

covering lichen and moss fields

after the snow kisses

ungloved hands

once frozen in the sun

and open tundra

of omen and memory

fooling no one

in a vertical dare

near the green sea

between fjords

where house boats tremble

from off the islands

to surface in the thaw

of landscapes

and life jackets

swaying gingerly

in the low crevices

of now forgotten

love notes

since climbing,

tree, caverns, mountains

in woolen socks

pushing your weight

to host beach friends

who visit and play

under the galaxy

of harmonic undertones

of experimental spheres.