as though it comes

as though it comes

from a remote mountaintop

few have ever been to

this slight afternoon

breeze moves me as it moves

the maple leaves         lifts them

up to show the red stems

                        the eyelashes

of a red-headed warrior          drifting

from the ripe edge of the viking stride

eleven-hundred years after his fall

floating

here on the ancient exhale

                                    the eyelashes

translated between leaf and limber

arrow-like branches.