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.