Renouncing tradition I took to the woods,
my trusty companions weft white-wizard
breath in their wake. Umbells of seedheads
donned snow-hats, heads nodding. The sunshards
turned treetrunks bronze-molten and roseate, their
glory-crowns straggling and trailing down low.
I followed the arrows that broke through the
snowcrust, they lead me to furrows all blow
rippled, whittled like wet weathered sand, lone
trudged over leaf dropped montelimar nougat,
an old slingshot treewreck held low-slung sun
missile, poised, firebrand aimed wide to the far
away heavenbound candyfloss wisps,
turned everything golden, the true alchemist.