There is a child
in the woods
There is a child
His hair is leaf
his smile is water
In his cradle of beech and maple
he rocks to an evening lullaby
His eyes are sunset and horizon
his breath the hazy sky
Before his mind slips into a sleeve of stars
he turns his head to say goodnight—
but the owls have left.
The fireflies have darkened their lights.
The crickets sit like silent gargoyles.
The leaves have hardened into frost.
There is a child
There is a child
There are no woods.