I Seek the Orchid

Howard Mckinley Corning

Tree moss hangs down like water
In green and temporal waves,
Light-shafted, pale; the forest
Repeats the ocean's caves.

Like any sea-washed diver
Breasting spray, I tread
The foamy drench to gather
The orchid from its bed.

Not that the waves may smother,
Not that my eyes may seal,
Yet this green and eerie glamour
Fastens me like steel.
Wildly, that I be unfathomed
Of this strange miracle,
My own seeks the cloven foot-print,
The orchid clutched like a shell.