the air in Medicine Bow forest is sharp
one breathes through the nose, deeply
when sitting low
on a burnt log
on second glance
not burnt, but darkly lichened
nearby
is Massacre Trail
and suddenly the notion
of landscape as memory seems shallow
because of course the earth remembers
even if we don't
we are as soil
plant in us and we may grow;
plant beans, and they will release nutrients
to the microorganisms of thought
fed upon by other tiny things
which obtain in turn as
conscious Nitrogren
in our ecology of mind
perhaps we only change ourselves
by changing our environment;
let us reintroduce wildlife
let us think outside ourselves
that our thoughts may breed, die
and become compost;
shall we fix the air we breathe
into our branches
and our fruit?