The Cliff

Below me, treetops, a crow
making its slow progress.
The green canopy's no sea
or net, but that absolute
thin veil between
the living and the dead.

Confusion of thickets behind me;
before me, open space.

From time to time returning
to this granite ledge
where I measure my life
by refusals, here
where measuring starts,
less than a step from the edge.