"this leaf, the local. splotched or daubed with silvery white a descending order of greens, and red. I read the seeds, colors and shapes. a bit of puff, a stick, thin and disguised. the wind beyond the hawthorn trees. the fifty year old canesof raspberries flourishing in another garden. pruning and watering he embodies the split mouth. is it, how little of this through the darkness of these slatted words. shaking at the bars, the cages, and I could wish my days bound each to each by natural piety. ther is a project called nature beyond the pale. a leaf, a stream, infringed upon, not safely in another dimension."-- B Dahlen, A Reading 8-10, Chax Press 1992.

I like this particularly for patience and thoughtfulness, the Wordsworth quote, and the last phrase. which kind of returns the object (written about) to the world, say, not just a poetic landscape.