Is it a thought or is it a leaf that I
think I see yonder at the base of
a tree? Or is it a bird so still it
merges with the tree’s thoughts?
These indeed are things to ponder
in awe as the day emerges warm
from a mist of slow enchantment.
These are the moments sent
to wake me in a gentle reality,
a generous and restorative
consent of all-knowing trees.
© 12 March 2007, I.D. Carswell
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