We Live In Nature’s Space

Reminded, casually, of how we live in Nature’s
space. A branch flung from a tall gum stands
upright, buried deep in soil soft from days of
rain – cautioning unwary travellers. A forest
of dead twigs surrounds the same – all erect,
each pays homage to a greater limb torn from
grander heights than this uneven plane.

A sinuous litter of thin bark blown in strips
from trunks swollen rare in ample pleasures
of sweet water lies discarded, alliterations of
shed snake skins curl venomously on gentle
green, deign a sense of order evilly. The wind
soars and spins in avid leaf gleefully, rushing in
from the east, fractious with haste.

This branch is buried 200cm deep, speared in
with nonchalance that raises hair. We steer
clear and look to the trees where we know it
came. There’s more deadfall up there you say,
see how it sways in the wind? Leaf descends
in a shower of rain, gums bend to wind’s roar.
Up there I say respectfully, there’s always more.
© 2 January 2008, I. D. Carswell