Forest

In the mists of the giant bark beneath
  rise old growth saplings out of crag and earth,
where tumbles an ancient evergreen leaf
  from that marvel of great and splendid girth.
That footing seed, that pod, that budding shoot 
  to spread its shedding crown in fulsome yield,
when ringed trunk buttressed by conifer root
  in furrowed skin wraps its tubular shield.
High on sky perch over forest thickets
  the sylvan canopy the clouds do climb -
to fell, to log, to mill into pickets
  and trusses tempers not this heart of mine.
It does me good (those sap bathed arms bended)
to see your mighty scaffold extended.


               Written: May 1992

beautygrowthnaturetreesonnet

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