#2418 -- a birch tremble

 

2418

7.225

15.viii.26

a birch tremble

 

how lovely the woods

before the way

when no one’s here to see

not a leaf’s out of place

 

just the idea of squirrel

the colour of bird

 

how lovely the heart

before the church is built

before the bricks are piled

when mind is open to the sky still

 

just the wings, all sizes, shapes

just the clouds gone by

 

it’s wonderful the poem

how its truth is known

before we find the words

 

sound and sign suffice

 

some say awe

that the day declines

to this least breeze

    this tremble

 

and further still

         to stars