Watching the sunrise
through trees now bereft of leaves
glistening and gleaming from countless strands
of spider silk catching and reflecting light
as branches sway in cold morning breeze,
dancing to the Windsong and reaching for the warmth
Sit i upon this rock with dead fall to be made staff
as the knife peels back the bark to reveal beneath
or somewhere else , sometime long past,
before the power of speech?
First a dark sheath; then cream colored flesh of solid wood
you can feel the good in your hands
This life that flowed i understand,
growing towards the light, reaching into Earth
leaves that laughed in the wind
with the years written in rings around your girth
Let me stand forever amid this glen,
spread may arms just so and pretend
to be growing always upward towards the light
A simple enough task,
one that i may just get right...
(12-04-10)
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