Posted on by threewintryfriends

a poem

like a tree upon the waters

whose shadow is cast before the reeds

the damp sod hardens into cool, red clay beneath its roots

and moss, settling upon the wise tree bark

as though an armor—

I stand with the cattails;

amongst the blue grass, the dandelions, the whistling ferns

winds meandering past in pursuit of the to and fro.

I want no grand thing, not even a flower to alight my vision

but to stand, there and forever

in the auspice of the oak tree

beside the moving brook, whereby I shall always remain.

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