Best Lichen Poems
lichen covered rock
golden in the morning sun
river otters play
The lichen clings to his trunk
Like she has for ages
Holding fast, curling tight
In pale green companionship
The oak tree smiles down at her
Craggy smile, chafed and gnarled with time
To admire her diligence, to coexist
At the meeting place where two form one
When the rain taps in multitudes on his leaves
When the night sweeps over like a funeral veil
When the day lifts it as a morning bride
Still she holds him, squeezing herself to his chest
He begins to wonder, as trees sometimes do
If it is time for her to uncurl, unlatch
For all the gifts that she provides, and he returns
Perhaps it’s time to diverge, to greet separate horizons
But a stubborn, steadfast thing she is
And for all his hoping and itching for progress
She holds on, past the eleventh hour
Past his need for her embrace
And now when the wind whistles through,
It sounds more like a wistful sigh,
For the lichen promises and whispers
And the fond old oak tree complies
“Loving someone enough to let them go
doesn’t always work.”
Saturday, January 30, 2021
For Joseph May’s contest “Fabled Musings”
Climbing
up the wall-
an alfresco
living expressionist
abstract
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lichen
past-present-futures echo now
evolution demands some future safety
for unsung potentials from life's blueprints
drawn up now in the present chain of life
natural species protections involve a blending
of life forms with such as environmental food sources
with respect color modes and general animal shapes
stan sand
master of disguise
colors like moss on tree bark
lichen katydid
When violets bloom deep in the bush,
Just atop their little push;
When fungus balls puff out spores green,
Where they go is never seen;
When rock exposed to sun and air,
Some to keep and some to share;
When lichen catches glimpse of sun,
The living bell has just been rung;
When baby does her first breath take,
Other senses soon will wake.
When owl’s egg slow nervous hatch,
A glimpse of life ahead may catch;
In filtered air sun moonlight be,
But not to mortal ones as me.
A patch of lichen I picked up
and then into my hand did cup.
The frills and shadows, in and out -
Finest fabric, without doubt.
Lacy lichen on my wrist -
Sweeter cuff does not exist.
The cool and smooth feel on my skin
I want to feel again, again.
If a bush sprite I could be
I think I would be more like me.