#589 -- in the green (Rawson Falls, Comboyne)

 

13.viii.21

589

2.224

in the green

Rawson Falls, Comboyne

 

for Daniel Ionita

 

 

take a stillness

all directions – wonder

 

how rarely wisdom

shows its rings

 

the great ones

creak, tilt, trill with frond, with wings

 

rarely point a silly sapling way

 

and here where the blade came century still

(thank hearts were then)

 

who’s climbing now?

so tangled much

 

floor strewn with the fallen

even sunlight sometimes

 

over the triproots

come humanly

 

in the green

and never just the one

but moss bright

the fungus forest

leaves just where they are

(some in the their tunnel-end yellow

some sepia since)

 

there’s this light folding

and a shrivel-fade

camouflage edge

as if on one dry day…

 

in whim meander

but

mustn’t be a leechstop

keep going

 

everyone’s travelling here

knotworks –

here there things grow in

and over and out and back

 

we believe that there have been events

 

days are all towering

the weather comes

was always here

 

no dates

no one calls the seasons

 

awed birds listen out and up

only the crown catching cloud

touching blue

 

you scratch but leave no name

 

see through the bottom of an old old bottle

how everyone is nearly gone

 

though

long enough here

wind up all fours, skitter

into another demesne

dimension

 

as if the creviced stone

might shelter

 

walls of green up

are a tree