Nancy Bryan

Transparent green as if a leaf
dissolves, a glow. Sun melts 
the tree. Day light

lime, high in a Linden, leaf-spirits
twinkle and jitter. I think of my love
in the machine's cavern while

light from somewhere scans his body.
Let the spot be a tiny overflow, a drop of leaf-light.
Let it be a transparency, a scar one cannot feel,

a photograph of a spotted owl, nothing
darker. The sun bends the fruit branches.
Green splashes of water. One morning,

the leaves lit up at the edge of our window.
We watched them splash a while.
Dusk now and light drains from the sky.