Love Affair

I close my drapes against inky

skies although sometimes I’ll peep

on clear nights to see which stars

have come to linger

between her branches.

Predawn, her massive dark trunk

rises from the fog

that clever whitewash obscuring

whatever toxic

humans have carved

in the landscape.  I am in love

with her lines, the grace

of her seasons, the 200-year-old

carriage, mettlesome dance past

meddlesome people who devastated

the wild places of her ancestors.

Sometimes I sit by her roots

and lean against her bark, or circle

around with my grandson, in genuine

puzzlement with each disappearance.

She delights in concealing him,

subtle guidance to pause just here,

now change direction, his giggles

ricocheting love vibrations

to the very top.  Just now

every branch is a complex poem

praising the lightening sky,

our interwoven connection,

every hidden root

pulsing deep in our

celebration of being.

 

Inspired by:  Puzzlement at Mettlesome Spirits thriving despite Toxic Whitewash.

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Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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