a witness to the unseen

i am the night wind that brushes the hair of a cloud that no one knows is there except the stars go dark they are aware i’m the rain too in the desert afternoon that evaporates above the ground a smear of dark unsaturated blue in the forest i’m the root you trip over where overlapping leaves laugh up above and below where sunlight never does i haven’t got all day to explain myself i’m a pock on…