In black cherry time

This is what happens as soon as I stop walking, my daily habit: I become habitat.

rain crow

when did the back of my hand  turn strange?

alone in the forest  her green shawl

lost in the small hairs  of hepaticas

will the circle be unbroken

myself on the app  arbutus

a linked-verse sequence

sun shriveling
in effigy

gone to seed
a traveler’s joy

the old logging railroad’s
boggy bed

touch-me-not quivering
in the rain

blossoming wintergreen