White birch screams against night, chalk mark
graffiti on Tom Thomson black pines, the Star
Spangled Banner of the Milky Way; super charged
lime radiance challenges the absence of light,
strives against the jet of shallow slate water,
the shadow, the fear that seeps from the forest —
you are a filament to inspire us, close as touch,
not like a star; the panicked forest, the mad mirror
blank stare of the lake, the sprawl of the universe,
you defy all, sing, a beacon in the dark.