Today the wind said "now these
forgotten walls remember sky".
An old building flattened to rubble
dreams of its disconnected bones.
So too, the needle of a compass
young, long,whitened fingers point
to what had been as its heart
loses all sense of direction.
On the way through the hills
one stops often to rest even
falling to knee where doubt
becomes a root, green bleeds
as once it stood in full blossom.