Long black fingers reach as far as they can reach
In early morning light, high clouds another world
Watching other lives, imagining the roots entwined,
Naked arms touching other arms, the bark,
The honey hidden in the trunks, dark acorns under feet.
Who will behold the Whole?
Who will have the admiration,
The early morning rapture as they lay upon
Fringes of the grass,
See the slow growth, the rising sap,
The early buds that wait to burst in spring?
Who among us have suffered through
Sufficient winter snows
To know the worth, the risk to leap, to bend, to break,
To rise, to reach again within each day?
Do you spend your days upon quiet meadows?
Do you walk within the woods when winter comes,
Open your arms among the prudent thorns,
Bleed to enter the woods,
Come alive inside the bark of trees?
Do you pray upon your knees for spring, for rain, for Sun,
Devote your life to creatures waking from long sleep…?
Your eyes are only windows to the soul,
And the soul is but another window,
Never shuttered to the rising wind
Wildly blowing through your life.
Do you walk? Do you run?
Do you fly into your dreams,
Ramble through the weeds, swing upon branches as you sing
The only song you have to sing, immutable and clear?