((This poem was inspired by a picture by my friend and a poet I quietly admire and adore, Luke Prater. If you haven’t read his work, you’re missing a phenomenal word-smith!))
What a smooth, green dream it must seem,
To be cocooned and cradled in the depths between,
The rough-barked, wooden walls, the outer shell,
And the inner heart-wood, that watched as the last leaf fell…
To live among the mushroom blooms and beds of Sphagnum,
Coleopteran caverns and the crevices which have them,
Life-pulse slowed in winter, resting, waiting out the freeze,
Then Spring’s stirring sap shall rise and beg release.
Peering out through bare-branched bower, enchanted home,
Dwelling in a timeless hour, roots sunk in deepest, richest loam,
There amidst the earth-toned smell of moistened moss,
She shifts and shivers limbs in a muted attempt at doss.
Most oblivious, few notice her naked, nymphed form,
Amusement flashes like lightning in an emerald-eyed storm,
Silent, watching the frantic, mad movements of men,
Glad when they leave and leafless peace reigns again.
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2012