Far-Fallen Wind

Night wind  
warmed 
by the creekside,  
its water running plump 
above milky stones,  
and a cedar branch   
brushed low 
by the day's rain,  
its bristled fingers 
braided into shadow,  
tall as the ferns 
as the snowberry 
as the quilted sky,  
brown in its cloudlight 
and seaweed-blue between, 
the water perfectly silent 
against the far-fallen wind.