Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Of its rustling foliage

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,  We fell them down and turn them into paper,  That we may record our emptiness.
 

-   Kahlil Gibran

All it has experienced, tasted, suffered:
 

The course of years, generations of animals,
Oppression, recovery, friendship of sun and Wind will pour forth each day in the song
Of its rustling foliage, in the friendly
 

Gesture of its gently swaying crown,
In the delicate sweet scent of resinous
Sap moistening the sleep-glued buds,
 

And the eternal game of lights and
Shadows it plays with itself, content.
 

-   Herman Hesse, 1877 - 1962 


Sharing light with Kimmy.
Striving to create a path between the present course of events and a new course; leading to new outcomes.

1 comment:

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    ReplyDelete

:-)