Wind And Change

It is the body swaying on its stalk,
The living bloom aware of light,
Even those hands in motion as in leaf
That shake me so
Who draw near in disembodiment, delight
Even: crossing the furry lawn,
Butting through wind, impelled by some belief
In the dazzling rays of a world made fresh.
Song, even tree,
Are imperfect analogies
For green assertion in the wind's teeth,
For all this warmth in the day's eye,
For everything disordered, all in leaf,
Laughing and blowing.