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Underground Giver

Beets and blood roots
sippin on chicory, barley and rye
morining drifting high
wood grain east light red
in a darks sky

Leaves left holding are trembling
blankets on the ground shine uo
breeze blows on and chickadees sing
curled up with soup and a cup

You touch me so sweetly
give so much so quietly
from the core up far as eyes can see
we're in the stars
with gravity
Waking up to build a fire
skipped from the road somehow
warm these bodies under quilts and comforters
it's November now

Weeks in the woods extended
inside outside bound
everything we need to feed
growing in the ground