Litany

I need a plant. I need a thingto take care of. I needa little green brownspottedblackdirt growingquietness. I need a sunlitdawn knowing my name filteredthrough a thin green window.I need chlorophyllworking its magic on beams ofgrassmade early morning dewdropsweetmaking green. I needthe dark earth sucking waterfrom a black creviceits black magic churningwormilled rockturned starblinddarkness and cold intothe opposite of dust. I need the heatto blind me. I need the dumb makingto charge my coldened blood. I needthe dropturned leaves to turn againtheir faces to the windblown sun.I need millions of tiny yearssummed up and burning out some unknownnew growth into the air. I need fourhundred feet of dark red gnarled woodand needles glistening wetly on goldheadedbranches hoisting themselvesto the sky. I need ten strong mento fail to bring you down. Old oneI need the peace that comes with knowingsomething sacred holds stillin the world. I need your green tonguesof flame to lick at old woundsstitching us together away from ourselves.I need your brownbranching graspto keep me from drifting offinto unknowing terrible sleep. I needto know the snake hangingfrom your branches. I need to watchthe dropping of flesh massfulonto the ground from a height. I needthe gnawer at your root to strikea vein to quicken old brown stoneto movement. I need jeweleyed venombarking new greennesses into the bark.I need a knocker of dark secrets hiddenin the dark bark hiding a smallstonesmoldering pearl in the knot. I needthat pearl held out in a hand like an offering.I need the hand to be a plant’s hand.

I need a plant. I need a growinggrowler groaning toward heat and air.I need a green thin stem surprisingly strongholding up the weight of a plainof fallow greennesses of creases and caressesof tiny worldmaking hardworking grandeur.I need a singer of life cryingforward into old roads covered overby dead trees. I need the rasping of rootin dirt. I need the unfurling of fiddleheadsto sing forth a new symphony. I needfruits swelling large for the harvest.I need yellow light shining through white bark.I need juicecrush flowing waterlikethrough valleys percolating upthrough the ground. I need springs bubbling sapinto cabins of wood fought for by labor.I need snow on the ground with shootsdotting the melting patches. I need twoleaves on a thin stalk shiveringin moonlight. I need robinsong warblingover the heads of small seeds sproutingto enliven their growth. I need ringsof woody material widening to pushthe ground out of their way. I neednew greennesses pushing out fromthe brown dark bark gnarled. Ineed the robin to build its songfillednest in a branchcrotch. I needthe fecundity of fungi on the branches.I need quiet of the sunlight shootingthrough thousands of branched leavesquivering. I need whisper at dawn.I need burrows underground foxholes.I need duff layers eaten throughby worms. I need brooks murmuringthrough crooks of roots. I need smallfish swimming in their schools atmidnight. I need oldnesses giving wayto youngnesses giving way to oldnesses.I need dapplegray yellowshot ashbark.I need the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.I need snowquiet deadbranch mourning.I need those purple mountains majesty.I need a walk between trees in the dark.I need that moment when stopping to restit suddenly seems that all the wearyforestroads in all their meandering cometo rest their heads at my astonishedfeet, none of them needing more than me.