at the height of the full moon,
you drive out to the woods and walk
as far as your body will let you
without making a labyrinth of the greenery,
minotaurs of the honey bees they harbor there.
they warn they draw restless in the mornings,
which begin early here. warn also
of the stinging nettleberries among
the flowers, blooming violet with the moon.
find a clearing as the sun arches to the horizon line
and wait for dusk. draw your circle
in fire, thank the earth, the moon, the air, the water,
all of it surrounding. tend to the fire in the center;
learn patience. walk circles as you line the space
with mirrors looking into each other ad infinitum.
watch five fires turn into a thousand, smoke
crawling through the trees. learn boundaries,
blank walls, invisible barriers. down to skin,
you become part of the trees, of the night,
frogs mistaken for birds, wind in the limbs lifting
up. nearby, music, but not.
learn this is how the world sounds.
learn to breathe, to sleep.
there is a handprin