Green Fire in Love

Green Fire in Love

Though it rises from a dark silent web beyond measuring

The green fire surely must be in love with the light, why

Would it send up this oak, this hemlock, these fronded and

Tufted ones so eager for some brightness to turn their tiny

Tender leaves into sustenance for the world? And surely

The air must be in love with water, or why would it sound

So plangent across the ruffled planes of the lake, or ride up

The heaving backs of the ocean swells, sacrificing any ship

To its passion for one taste of what is true? Yesterday I

Went to the low end of the lake, accompanied only by music

Of wind playing on trees. Today I wake again before dawn

In the same fear, ancient webbing will not ease its grip, all

That I have not done, all that I ought not to have done, the

Habits of supplication still gnawing away from beneath like

Porcupines or molds or termites. O to sweep this dark web

Into light, give over to something else not yet revealed, but

All the same free of this arranged marriage with my small

Grim protector, even now slavishly polishing these chains.