Deadfall

up here
the fireroad follows the ridge
spine on spine
God’s finger
furrowing out deadfall
flicking at cedar or redwood
to indicate this one or that one
food for all things small
and six or eight-legged
deadfall
charred and blackened
and laid to rest beside the fireroad
or hacked away and discarded
or uprooted by the seawind
found sometimes
carving through the niche between the hills,
this one or that one
covered with deadfall cedar or pine
to indicate the spine of the ridge

up here
we are lovers
following the ridge
following the fireroad
to the niche between the hills,
poems for one another,
beguiled by sunlight in the hair
and sillouettes against the eternal blue,
and below us, cows,
statued against
a shelf of land that
used to belong to the sea,
and below them the sea itself, glistening,
bluer than the air we stand in
up here.

and all of this for us,
all of this moment,
every piece of grass in place,
every branch stirred,
and even Spanish moss,
found sometimes miles beyond where it started,
miles beyond where it should be,
hanging on pine or cedar or redwood
deadfall.