A Passing Phase

First, bird song rings
through the darkness.
Then salmon dawn
swims in upon the mist,
tints the low lying fog.
Tree tops float.
Forgetting their roots,
they mingle, oak
with pine, cypress
with poplar.
A faint rustle rises
of leaves in communion.

As the sun gains height
and burns off the fog,
the canopy rediscovers
a stolid, brown midsection
and hidden foundation,
grasps tight the earth
it will not yield
except to lightning
or the rot
of old age.


14 thoughts on “A Passing Phase

  1. ah this is a wonderful evocation of nature and the season….saw some pretty amazing pictures of the salmon run the other day on another blog…to think of their instinct….really cool imagery in this one man…

  2. I’ve always been most at home in the fellowship of trees. This paints their world and their essence as lightly as morning mist, as strong and constant as their reaching roots and limbs. errr…yes, I liked it.

  3. You know, I think the most serene moment I have ever spent was in the dense woods of Germany, I’m guessing 200 to 300 year old growth with a canopy so high it seemed to be the sky. It was certainly beautiful, though there is so much beauty in life. I’ve carried the memory of that very special day with me for over 35 years. It was spent with young friends, joking and laughing, and arching our necks to spot a sparkling of sun piercing through to the floor we walked upon. Your poem describes so well why I would have saved the space in my feeble waning mind for so long to have saved this memory…. Just outstanding poetry…..

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