Alert and splayed branches accept and reinforce
life's rhythms, existence, and love.
Now in January, I want to write the poplar's pulse,
but mine quickens as I come close to mediating its presence.
To share its essence, I transcend the desire
to understand and like the wood.
Pigeons sit content amongst the branches that support me.
Then I watch the squirrels chase,
their fearless leaps of faith
one hundred or more feet from the ground
and feel the excitement of a fool testing the margins.
Now the crow, whose knowing has gone beyond the need to share
takes me to ambiguity and leaves me
as it flies beyond to bottomless secrets,
flashing a hint in its eye,
on its wing it disappears.
The arms of this tree, vivacious with variation and complexity,
are in perfect paradox with its innate design to be.
Comparing Meaning Of Life To A Tree
Poplar
Published: April 2008
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