The New Cosmology - Paulann Petersen

 So it's true: the poplar and I

are sisters, daughters of an ancient

star,

every last thing

so much the same (harp, toothpick, linnet, sleet)

that whatever I touch

is touching me, whatever is is a cousin, unremote.

Even the metaphors - 

ruby as blood, blood

as river, river as dream - all are

true,

just as the poets promised.