for oft the best things are
by tanner brockwell

for oft the best things are—those that we together dream
they are the morning right as it is bright
that dancing form across the glade
a sylvan archetype bowed a curve
the airs of some old melody
the rustle of limbs together
boughs touch spread wide
covered with the pointed shapes
superfluous adornment
that in a moment slides smooth
silkwise thought in a cascade
towards a grounding
charging this dance as muse
as invoker as bearer of wordless why
a parade of scant forms
dancing in the glade

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