i commune with the creek   the wildflowers

here are rue and spring-beauty

here are violets and others whose names

i don't know   who have no names 

beyond what we ascribe   on

this spring morning of woods-walking 

of clearing log-jams   of sweeping leaves

from welling-springs   i pause

to admire   pause to remember a spring

like this when clare came into my life   

for a year we played an insane game   

before it fluttered away   it was day like this

that i danced like a madman   like john clare 

like a man undone   like a man under a spell