Once when I was with love
and it was at that moment
that we lay upon
the living earth   her back against
horizontal trunk of an oak
my neck cradled on her thigh
my head in her lap
the scent of the oaks
that had grown and died
in their great long
green cycle
mingled in bits with frost
broken sandstone
chips
that had shifted like such a slow sand
down as a mountain   beneath our bodies

greeted my nostrils
and gave depth to her near musk
and to my dream
we
different in some rootless and blooded way
from the falling oaks
do join them in the descent
down
as parts of the hill