Three Sonnets

Where I live      distance is the primal fact The world is mostly      far away and small Drifting along through cause and effect      like sleep As when the distance      unlikeliest of stems Bears the unlikely      blossom of the wind Engendering our only weather      dry Except in winter      pine trees live on snow So greedy      pulling down these drifts that bury The fences snap      the trunks of smaller trees If the forest wants      to go somewhere it spreads Like a prophecy      its snow before it Technology      a distant windy cause There is no philosophy      of death where I live Only philosophies      of suffering