Ney Springs

no one needs to prune these trees, arrange these rocks

this is not a park
uncorrected lies the glade

(there is nothing to be done here and there is everything)

*

let the rocks be hot and the water glacier cold
the logs span the rock piles
dead sticks remain in the trees

let the bumblebees swing
back and forth like pendulums
unaffected by my breathing

let the birds be silent or insist

exposed roots hang, curtain-like
side pools reflect the shadows
fallen leaves float flat
let the water striders stop and start
over colorfast stones
on a clear ceiling

let the dark moss soften and envelop
stone wall and hillside

the spiders continue to wire the canyon, the sun
glide on their filaments

let the sulfur spring continue
to overflow its bucket-round concrete pool

let the plywood covering the larger pool
continue to warp and splinter
the concrete steps detach from the hillside
the fine, almost dainty debris
accumulate on the path

the rock, appearing
continue to work its way out of the ground
blue and white stippled, the color of old enameling