After a Dream About Poetry and Sculpture

Next morning, outside, as we walk
through the openings of our day,
cheered by the clear air,
we feel we can almost touch the certain
definitions of hills and bare trees
that fill our horizon,
examine closely that meeting place
between what we know, what is left
to appear to us.

Now at noon, the sun
shaping white trunks of the birches
we pass toward home: those stand-ins
for Carrara emergences
we come to in the dark.

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