Cat tails

A bed of cat-tails.
Like these thoughts I have, each one
is solitary,

a stalk all its own.
I try and remove just one,
yet as I'm pulling,

notice that under
this mud in which they're growing
they are connected,

none of them alone.
A net of roots and rammets
from a single seed...

I thought I had found
a dozen individual
expressions of life-

but really what grew
had seven hundred fingers
reaching from the earth;

simple expression
of one seed sprouting just right.
These wetlands are full.

The roots that are deep
provide structure and, during
the barren fortnights

they keep me alive:
packages of sustenance
hiding underground.

a moth wonders

This flame I fly towards;
the irresistable light
in your eyes....what thoughts

lie behind those lids,
and will I be able to
know them and survive?

Woman Immured

My windows are iced.
Is the world outside still there?
Where are all the stars?