Wednesday, February 23, 2011

arbor




I should play among  
the sun’s reflection 
in the cool trickles of 
liquidy perfection
‘neath the quiescent 
observation of oak roots 
exposed by erosion.

 
I should chant a
mantra of pure joy
smelling the soft soil
newly rain-soaked 
under my feet, 
at the rustle of toil
of an unknown 
companion in
the thicket or 
an answered avian call
over the canopy.

 
I should sit for
longer hours amidst
the leaves, the
verdant foliage calls, 
vibrant and seductive
as it pleads, 
bark encompassing 
a lineage hidden.
I feel as father and as son
on this hill in the wood
there is nothing profane 
here, nor forbidden.

 
I should live by my heart
forever in this land
encased in the bark and
rooted in the soil
created by deity’s hand.
 
I should.

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