Mud Season

[LSClanton]

I want to express my gratitude for both of your excellent feedback. I have adopted many of your changes and also made some adjustments to improve the message of the poem and clear up the narrator's role and intent. It is about the impression we make upon the earth and our relationship with it. I hope the new edits clear some of this up.
Again, I am so grateful for the feedback!

Mud Season

A leaf is pinned to the stream bed
forced flat by Winter’s raw
and wrathful storms now fed
drop by drop into the thaw

Dripping, sticking, sweetening sap
Sweating from hearts of trees
They also bleed from their wounds racked,
exposed by frost and freeze

Change is muck and dirt and grit,
but soft and molded too
For novel needs it shifts and drifts
seeping, creeping toward the root.

I step onto the sun-warmed sod
from permafrosted shade.
I sink, a subject to the laws
of gravity and change.

My hand splays out- an open prayer
Strikingly unafraid
Beginning overdue repair
of a pocked and broken faith

Tongues probe between my fingers
holding my impression
Time pauses, breathes, and lingers,
then slowly takes possession

Sucking, squelching, we dehisce.
On cracked and drying knuckles
The breeze plants an itching kiss
I leave you with my mark and fossil.