Tree Poem

I am shaded and safe,

here under my many-colored canopy

of gently turning leaves

and low slung branches.

The living arms outstretched

and bent low

create the wooded circle where I live.

I could fall deep

into the void of mind

here below the leaves,

            tumbling inward.

Or,

just as easily,

I could rise up through

these waving limbs,

with the cold and heart-shaped leaves

smoothing past my cheek---

to stand upon the swaying zenith,

            naked to the sky.

I could move the planets

from their invisible homes in the ether fields,

impose change upon their

colorless, craggy surfaces,

and line them up to spell my name.

            

But instead,

I take my seat beneath the tree.

Planted on the earth together,

the tree is a fixed point on an endless plane,

            myself but a child of the tree.

My mind begins to reference

            the experience between words,

A quiet, still, and peaceful place of

            filtered light from a distant sun.

 

Reviews

[Denham Cole]

I get a grateful sense of place and relief from time in a poem as this.
It was a pleasure to read. A delight.
Thanks