cedar
the moon roof rose over the crazed tracts of cedar
craving attention its round sphere of ash grey self
called emotion to the sprites of the wild brake
drawing them out like green finning to a magnet
they coalesced to walk in shadow
wary as lightning
tread soft as the carpet of mellow spent needles
unfeared by the axe of age that shears the tough sinew
crept through the many clinging years of man
tacit scared as a phobic bird
change slowly changes while worlds speed on
i felt that change as he appeared
in two separate dream world landscapes
the perfectionist
with his new found children the sprites of pleasure
festooned with the sparklers of joy
crackling within the brilliant arc of happiness
they set the filament of the forest floor a flame
and in its combusting wandering heat i saw
he turned one eye to abandon
the dogged knotted timbers that once
bonded our hard worked souls
across the many dimensions of the spirit
across the many plenum of the unseen worlds
and as those bonds were broken their shriek rang out
as ripples might do say to a stone lobbed into a lake
and were trapped in each and every cedar
in ochre circles and sienna ringlets
so each tree core bears the pain of parting
not self revealing
neat and deep within its hardwood