No watch, no phone, no camera,

to take the trees, bushes, stones

to send into the ether, no more

the next the next the next shot—

the river, the swan, the turtle

to post—no lookie-at-me-aren’t-I-just…

through images I co-opt

(please don’t share),

no marking the path as mine,

no thumbing the small moon 

shutter button on my screen,

naked eye, blink for blink for blink—

 

to be used, instead, by the trees, 

yield to the flicker of their shadows, 

to the muddy path 

of my impressions,

let the river wash through me

its silver emulsion, let the bushes,

once shuttered, finger the shift 

in warmth as I pass, let 

the small breeze shape itself

to my body, branches strobing 

the flash of the sun, marking 

and then letting me go—

the sky for itself, 

the trees for each other.