among trees a perfect mound

of earth harmonizes deep into

their song.

a break in the thick of them, wild

with survey and anonymity--that

to a faint heart would repeat thereon:

I Am lost.

its dome is consecrated by moon-milk

midnights, reflecting leaves that shadow

a wind that fits and unfits them into

one another.

yet to the fateful one standing thereon

repeats: I Am found.