On a run around the lake this morning,
someone had put words on the trunks
of trees so that when I passed
the first, the tree spoke to me
and said, “The”,
the second tree spoke
in a different voice and said, “mind”.
As I ran I listened to the trees
eagerly. “Baffled” one tree shouted.
“Employed,” another tree goaded.
By the time I arrived to where I started
the poem had formed
like the first snow on the naked,
icy surface of a lake. Afterwards,
i walked out to the middle of the lake
and lay down. I looked up
at a gray blanket of clouds
as the trees repeated the poem
in its entirety from every side of the lake.
I am no longer afraid of falling
through the ice, I thought.
And then I fell through the ice.
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