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Abstract

wn and expected yet unpredictable, guesswork and surprises, fleeting and ephemeral.</p><p id="d185">White-barked tree says nothing aloud, but its deceptive silence inspires human seeker to sit on grass, gaze through temporal eyes like vision itself hoping to understand invisible clues and translate all that can be seen and heard, all that can be felt and smelled and tasted, into something anew each moment, something lasting, something inside and out at the same time, something like the wind, almost akin to poetry.</p><p id="7435"><i>More poems by this writer:</i></p><div id="c599" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-mud-of-oneness-f4dbb672a6"> <div> <div> <h2>The Mud of Oneness</h2> <div><h3>Poetry exists every step of the way, on Earth Day and every day</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*RBPrhpCf8MWE7LhjdVpkIQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="94d2" class="link-blo

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ck"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-snapshot-while-were-moving-3b632d98c844"> <div> <div> <h2>A Snapshot While We’re Moving</h2> <div><h3>Here, there and everywhere — all at once and little by little</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*5B-4UPn9UgkAGDZkI0ddjQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="4ae9" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/hummingbird-amazement-poem-96a21235d14b"> <div> <div> <h2>Hummingbird Amazement Poem</h2> <div><h3>These winged wonders have all the right moves to inspire awe</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*iuMErUHISHzXvEnIowAnkQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

White-Barked Tree Grows Crooked

A poem for right now, regardless of which way the wind blows

A tree grows crooked in Hercules, California, its branches stirred by the wind, but appears motionless in this photograph. (Original photo ©2021)

White-barked tree grows crooked not far from low-tide shore across the tracks by the sea.

White-barked tree dances in the wind, the wind that blows where it will.

Wind-whispered Word-voice roars wordless wisdom, conveys indecipherable secrets of motion and change, of what it means to grow, to grow roots, to bend with grace and love the truth of what moves us.

White-barked tree sways while standing, stands while swaying, displays true survival skills moment to moment in the timeless continuum that moves with us through time, time itself a self-winding clock that winds us with it, a series of instances anticipated or arriving out of the so-called blue, here, then gone, patterns known and expected yet unpredictable, guesswork and surprises, fleeting and ephemeral.

White-barked tree says nothing aloud, but its deceptive silence inspires human seeker to sit on grass, gaze through temporal eyes like vision itself hoping to understand invisible clues and translate all that can be seen and heard, all that can be felt and smelled and tasted, into something anew each moment, something lasting, something inside and out at the same time, something like the wind, almost akin to poetry.