Paraphrasing God’s Copse

burial bringing the holt in shrub crowds
of comparative wood sailing, all a ghost,
to the transient tree lands of Germany

copse encounters along savored, lied,
twin trials that dictate collective shearing

there was no last dismissal, not fiber clothe
rattle along or towards me fixated wings
just the paraphrases of God’s legitimacy
standards like the continuous rise of daylight

we make do
we make do

capturing shadows in the dark of night
posing for God’s para-ontological canvas