Wind in Trees by Water
The wind gives a voice to the trees,
the sap of poems rushes, pushes
the length of branches to be heard
even in the green reaches of their crowns.
You are told of flux and motion,
the many tongues of birds,
the gifts of songs of sunlit synthesis
and of now - how the past and future
dissolve and mingle in the murk
of bright water that flows away
from you in this moment.
And beneath your feet you sense
how the earth drones with the industry
of wasp and ant, beetle and mouse:
a dark magic shared with the dead,
quakes with life and death
so that history hums into membranes
and bones, the machinery of hard shells.
Bloodlines of roots stretch sinuous
through it all, seeing everything,
embracing nothing, you are insignificant
in the wake of it, your concerns
are rendered trivial in the light of this -
you are not bad or broken,
you are not judged to be anything
other than a part of it, you simply are,
it breathes these words into you
and you may rest here
in the boughs of this peace awhile.
Image is my own. Painting on twitter is from here: