‘Morning is Endless Among Trees’ by Wyatt Martin

b/w 35mm collage – photo by Wyatt Martin
discover the forest, your body distal
to the heart of the fireside
circle of friends dancing,
huddled in its light warmth

Steer away, to the darkened treeline
when you stray blind far enough
your vision adjusts to the visual quiet
the moon and stars are also light

sit totally still, but fire-alive, eying
like an owl, and just as quiet, hear
and you hold it there, outstretched–
for the first time–
seeing the world and yourself
in the same frame (minus everyone else)

nervous system churning, turn to see
a silent chorus of glows
emerge atop the hills like fire towers
along a medieval mountain range

the glares, chiming their purpose
in fire– there are others–
they are warmth and light and blood
but not the world, not you

your gaze swings up and East
the sun’s fire claws a frown
over the ridge, the light
of the tower’s fades to invisibility

as you begin to chop the day’s wood
and fetch the day’s water
you look at this daylight, double-exposed
and see that it is darker among the trees

and cooler too

The soft tumble of distant tones
ring like a jukebox through the jungle

You know this human noise,
align to these signals, and see
the pupil of this fire circle,
looking back at you

it is laughter it is warmth and love
it is revenge it is blood and teeth
it is everything, but with ease, eclipsed
by your silent thumb raised in the air

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