A Changing Season’s Great Puzzle

A Changing Season’s Great Puzzle

The spirit of the ancient tree

pondered the great puzzle

A simple twist of fate

moves the bedrock

these tap roots grasp

These deep roots claw

when trunk sways instinct

Branches reach out

beyond their golden arm’s length

Wind whips wildly astir

in ether eddy’s high places

Grey clouds veil bespoken allusions

of misunderstood alchemy

Caught out in the rain

once again a lucid aberration

The tree cannot become

igneous basaltic lava it clutches ,

nor can it run from fire ,

for it fears not the flaming glow

of the Autumn woods

The trunk rises above these embedded roots

like metamorphic rock

Quietly cogitating release ,

its fickle lucent gypsy leaves

chasing the blustery wind ;

contemplating the great

puzzle unfolding before these roots

Changing season’s shelter ,

prevailing wind undresses ,

naked to the world again ,

left as found . . .

yet another wooden ring ...

Did another unbroken circle mean anything ?

© Harlon Rivers ... October 10th , 2013

Authors notes :

We cannot run from who we are . . .