Feet

In the October fireglens, hardwoods

spoof the cedar by dying more brightly

not caring in their quickness that they

corroborate the softness of cedar bark,

the dust-green planings of bark the old

cedars have: instruction for the man

too much ensconced in sight, in what feet

know and next his hands: last, the softness

is inched up years of yellow-reds the cedar

catches and drops back down the wind slide.