Trees

This ambient swale abode–

how decorously the weeds

have grown

and brambled to thicket.

 

Forested among my thoughts,

limbs of truth

bough down

and touch the ground.

 

To knoll my confusion,

Fertile anew–

Through slow decay:

A living conspiracy of trees.

 

Spring 1977

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *