Find the coil of an old tree root.
Follow it down. Stir the soup thick. Sit.
Sit with your feet bare to tamp dirt.
To listen. Gather drumbeat. Store it as echo
in your bones. Smell the musk of hard
mast — acorn hickory beech. Paw a hoof print
with your palm.
Twine the stems of your fingers around an earthen cup
the color of rust blood. Let branch tea
steep smoke-dark steam spiraling
down beneath cast iron. Embers.
Remember the toll of your heartbeat
deep. Embed it in heavy bedrock