Jared Carter

Cecropia

Pale gossamer this pilgrim wraps
          about itself
Along the way — essence of sap
          and bark, and wealth

Of leaves, till what transforms within
          surrounds without, 
And hastens sleep. Recall that thin
          veil the devout

Can pass on through, that summoning
          to second sight —
Unlimited, on opened wings,
          and drawn by light.



Drone

Quietly, over the anguished
          land asleep, to
See, as the wind does, the languished
          and forlorn, who,

Far below, once dreamed of taking
         wing, but have no
Vision now, to show waves breaking,
         mountains that go

Forth, towering trees — a world they
         wanted us to
Know, those old ones. What they still pray
         might see us through.

Jared Carter’s most recent book of poems, The Land Itself, is from Monongahela Books in West Virginia.  He lives in Indiana.