A trunk by itself is nothing
Concentric circles locked in place
Big zeros and little zeros
Marking time, polarizing space
But add branches, add a few twigs
Limbs reaching out, gathering in
And the trunk packs for a journey
Birds come, rain falls, sunlight tarries
Mother Gaia knows the way home:
Tower arising from Earth’s dark
Citadel built from last night’s rain
Her leafy arms lift to the sky
How can this be, asks the raven
Earth and sky walking the same road,
Building a way for each other?
Life borne aloft, light drifting home.
So beautiful!
Beautiful poem, Mike. At first I thought the trunk referred to a piece of luggage Looking up the word I discovered that is a relatively recent meaning/
Lovely image and reminder!