Grace

undulating lights cling

to this trail's wood,

as cedars blow a scent

like sawdust with muggy blur

my eyes widen with silhouette orange,

stirring to a blaze

within this boreal summer

a descending voice breezes

through the ashy smoke,

choired with throat tones,

whirling like a tornado,

or a corridor green

within these snapping trees

pressing my arms and legs

into lichen, centering my equilibrium;

I peer through a floor of fire

sprinting on damp patches,

like steps of a deer

with skinny speed

still waves of granite

clap under my numb feet,

as her revibrating song

traces over my loud panting