Following ancient gunnels like a torrent
of water
Curious, mindful
Pooling in a white bone pit
At eye level with the ground
The spiders have been at it
Their silver webs lace the ivy mat
This phantom geometry
A patient beauty humming with existence
Everything in its place
Take this fallen tree
Its roots hinged out of the earth
To form a living throne
Seat of the everlasting now
The root formations mirror the interlocking
Of branches in the canopy above
They are the flailing limbs of woodland sprites
They pattern the sky
Just like they pattern the under world
As it is above, it is below
I press my fingers into the wet moss
New bliss
I note the soft spongy bark
New waves of bliss
I lie in an autumn pool of colour
In pure incessant red and yellow bright
Heaped leaves where my feet once were
Now whipped up in a cyclone flurry of earth scent
Oh yes!
The depth and substance of that smell contains
Life
Contains death
Gives way to life
Death to life, Alive
