roots grow thick and slow
the tender shoots of lacking
the subtle twist of limb and roll of bark
that has forsaken the moss to reveal
(not withstanding all previous
degrees of ancient groves)
wooden vertebrae stalks
reading spinal rings
finding a hump,
concentric
deviance
but like a meandering camel
the rain of all rains has come
torrential bliss, a monsoon maven
adjusting the investments of those
who cared too little
and spent too much
wandered into a maze of cypress
and tried to be forgotten
in a shady empire
where is that promise on the wind?
12.29.08 © acn
