Fallen In Love
We know that trees reach...
Ignoring the substance
of Earth and seeking
the damp and the light,
the wet on the way,
to the light on some
far side, a far side
with promise of light
when all here is dark.
All moments are rooted
within themselves;
and in themselves
they find Reach
Past shadows,
the understory of
reach, following
slants and slivers of shine:
first charcoal, now
jades, following gold
to the promise
of blue.
reach, reach
each, each
moment
reach, reach
each, each
moment
of life.
To skies
seen above;
to skies
believed below.
But did you know?:
a fallen Fraser
a felled fig
a downed dogwood
a horizontal horse chestnut
may reach all the same
like long-dead ancestors
whose stories and myths are
told over cut-split-spark wood
late at night. Carrying stories,
wisdom, laughter, & lessons...
...and their meanings teach you
...and their meanings reach you
beyond death, from another shore.
For a good reach can outlast
death,
can outfox
time,
can outdo
death.
So, too the timber
whose roots kiss the air,
whose leaves've lost
sight of the light,
continues its sacred
reach...
If you look
across the gap
to the distant shore
you may yet see
the teachings of trees
uprooted and rotting.
The teachings of trees
so muted, so not-Spring.
There! Over the burble,
retired from reaching
but still she is teaching
the value of reaching;
becoming a bridge
that we each might reach,
tiptoeing on beech,
to the far 'n long-promised
beach.
Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2018
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