What Lies in the Mist Lies to the Clouds

Do the years pass the same way
For those who move, those who stay?

Time shakes the trees of the mind,
And what falls is the same kind

Of bruised fruit, twigs, and torn leaves
For those who stay, those who leave,

But it’s strange to see these woods
On the move, as if they could

Chase that ice to the sea’s edge
To watch it melt from a ledge

Past which no mind can root down.
The waves rise. The salt thoughts drown.