A path through a wood on a cool summer's morn,
Roots inweave rock, soil branch and burrow,
Meandering, tributary endless through the loam,
Branchy tendrils to silky strands dig and comb,
In time their own, saplings and trunks harrow,
The dawning scene they suffuse as they adorn,
Our World.
Our steps obstructed, musing one fallen oak,
Secret roots uprooted, indecently bedraggled,
Like a girl child from her sheets one rainy dawn,
Then opportune mosses and clamoring shrooms,
Spawn o'er the toppled towering timber, crackled,
Metabolism fails, its substance can only stoke,
The clay.
Striding through rocky stream, where ice cleft
Endless fissures for seed, soil and wind to stuff.
And saplings pry while roots and branch tendril,
Roots worm in micro-caverns, osmose droplets.
Filament branches splinter as elements rebuff,
To triumph the splintered rock, or shrivel bereft,
Of days.
Each step reveals life: soncy sprite, mouth agape,
Limbs and fibers fan air, water, soil, rock and tree,
Metabolic sponges using and reusing the elements,
Then displays the wonder of this unfolding creation,
Resisting entropy, plumage evolves a divine melody,
With eyes to see, one can see a beauty that does drape,
Every step.
