To See

To see new sky

gathered in the

mud-rimmed basket

where mama robin placed it

in the keeping of

burnished cliffs

much older than life

to see,

you’ve got to run the

gooseberry gauntlet,

a trial by

dancing daggers,

you’ve got to

trust your feet

to shifting talus

loyal to no one,

you’ve got to

put both hands on

the watching rock

and lean in

face to face,

far in,

one eye forward,

to see.