Trees as barques

Is it a wonder that no one dance
can capture the forest prance?

Slender barques move
to their journey’s end.

Forest rood, slender forest stood
as early light’s lithe fingers
brush against a young pinewood.

Beach, oak and sycamore lift their tongues
praising Father, Son and the Breathing One,
pushing leaves across the verdant earth.

All the thorns of Adam’s birth
lie beneath skin, branch and earth.

Leaves, open mouthed, catch water
from sacred skies;
heavy clouds like
angels pouring bread.

© rl busséll 2019 – All rights reserved.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.