Catch

For Dan

I think I know this land, the shape of it,
the baldness of each shadow, the curve of each tree.

And then I fall forward, and instead of flying,
I crash-land. I'm surprised at the strength of my
call for help, my guttural howl.

I'm surprised at the rhythm of concern that follows,
as the ground warms from the sun and the birds land near
to investigate.

It's hard to be angry as the wind
whispers, "I'm sorry," and the trees sway
to compensate, catch falling leaves.

I am thankful for the wind, and the trees who dance with it.