Crooked driftwood in the skinny tree,
Debris like veils shrouding broken branches,
Small ground gourds from the previous summer
Tumbling to artful rest on piles of small trees,
Spring Creek after the seasonal storm.
You are tall enough to reach the twisted piece
Suspended in the dead tree like a bird wing
And do not hesitate when I ask you to get it for me.
You have already picked up two rocks
For me. You already know everything.
–for Ken and Earth Day