ADVICE TO A POET

Something rising up to tangle

Summer flashes, rooting at the tip

And elevating branches to the sorrel

Fold; because it might not hold

 

The marsh pink litter on the shanks

Of fall, some milkweed tassel

Washes slowly down the open lip

Of night to blanket limbs in snow,

 

Sleet, which under layers

Of wooden frost is mostly air,

That coats each leaf in ice

To keep it from the cold.