“A Rock, A River, A Tree”
Her poem begins
But only the rock speaks
     “Stand on me
      and do not hide your face”
In this beginning excerpt

I have never read this poem
(A long poem, apparently)
Although a thick volume of her poetry
Autographed and well thumbed
Sits on my favorite side table
Made by Woody just as I wanted
Natural edged and natural shaped
Deep rich polished wood
Too often obscured by piles
Of mail and other to do stuff

There, on the under shelf
That does not have the beauty
Of the top
Except in its practicality

Sits the thick volume of her poems
Yet I have not read of the rock, the river and the tree

Do the river and tree ever get to speak?
Does the river say
     “Swim in me 
      and close your eyes”

Does the tree say
     “Sit under me
      and pretend you are bodhisattva
      until you are no longer pretending”

Then I will join the fish in the river
Swim across to the rock
And stand in the sun, the rain, the wind
Having no face to hide