a tree stretching towards the sky 
is actually tilting

is really seeking the center of the earth
that is the tree’s return 

the fish tires of its flesh as soon as 
it is spawned and wants to reveal 
its elegant skeleton 

the flower wants to be seed
the grass aches for its wheaty demise 
what’s thrown towards heaven craves descent 

everything wants to return 

look
     my fingers begin their early 
curling inward       my hair would be the color 

of nothing   my eyes the same  dimming from 
sky to cloud
     my teeth, tired of their white story 
seem to remember ancient stones    will go
back there    will go back 

and bones have their own dream of returning 
will fragment  split and splinter 

sift  descend    settle
until the final    
     --listen-- 
        sigh  

by Susan Maeder
Mendocino