Bi-Focal

Sometimes up out of this land

a legend begins to move.

Is it a coming near

of something under love?

Love is of the earth only,

the surface, a map of roads

leading wherever go miles

or little bushes nod.

Not so the legend under,

fixed, inexorable,

deep as the darkest mine

the thick rocks won't tell.

As fire burns the leaf

and out of the green appears

the vein in the center line

and the legend veins under there,

So, the world happens twice—

once what we see it as;

second it legends itself

deep, the way it is.