type of poem

there was never a sound beside the wood but one
dark-eyed
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
above them all, looking down
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
daughters of time
to clothe the fiery thought
some of the hurts you have cured
we who stood
out of the window a sea of green trees
little park that i pass through
by the rude bridge
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying