Questment

En Plein Air 

for every knot

I’ve eyed my way

into bark of aspen

arched brows that trace

beyond my efforts

to encipher

strokes of crows

upon a passing

canvas the not

becomes the is

my presence

jostles water

from the pool

each ripple blurs

the name I sought

to tame

in a transient world

what need’s a frame

the lilacs

I pluck fill up

the room sooner

than I find fern and sweetrot

snowmelt scents

that house the essence

transmute

knocking I’m subsumed

by music of muse

to see calyxes

starring blooms

and know epitome

of galaxy-

studded roof

a thought

too much

yet not enough

I touch

I touch

the palm of my face

to the rough

knob of this

unspeakable place