"Roots and leaves themselves alone are these,
Scents brought to men and women from the wild  
              woods and pond-side...."

–Whitman, "Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone"




Yahara Spring I


The cars at the corner slow at the stop sign of Rutledge Bridge.
There is a moment then on the bridge to align with water to either side.
The mind may leave the car for a moment.
The world now not far away as the stone bridge arches over the ducks
Swimming at their leisure below on the top lace of the cool water.
The stone bridge is a lookout to Lake Monona;
Clouds bust out high above the last shelf of ice at its center
           and turn away as if wild and untamed.
Here is where the promise of each bud sings but can't be heard.
The buds are singing in the earth under the mud of the path
That curves along the bank; the buds are singing invisible leaves;
The buds sing as buried cones, the base of grass seed,
            yet we do not know it.
The man lifts up his eyes from the water and he sees his next street.
The ducks paddle out to the ice instinctually.
The clouds return.
The mouths of seeds keep on singing.