Lakelight, riverlight, dusking as the days' translations retreat—                               Tightness begins to unravel yet your seeds cling to samaras,                  clothing the tree-of-winter.                                 Not the varnished lanterns but your leaves, lance-shaped & heart-                 scarred, giving off the odious scent. Breakable, the final body that dries                                from being told  it must be its own or only                 ornament. Let it remain, then. Let it cut cracks through sidewalks                                & stone walls, turn out from under bridges. Push                    as long as you can to.ward the sky.                 .