Everything Comes
Published in

Everything Comes

TWIG

Twigs and dried leaves that sound

Autumnal cycles seldom found

Here where I see potted things only

I’ll come upon one

I can see one

Nature is many faced

1a

Electrons are said to be

Profusely distributed under our skin

I’ll marvel at the nature in my earthly garment

2

But twigs I can imagine

How they break I cannot tell

But break they do with sound or not depending on the

Auditor

I think I’d rather ponder quantum inner things

Than bear the guilt of broken twigs ignored

Of course there are these cycles

Either in picturesque

Walk scenes or landfills

3

A census of twigs

I see it

Perhaps I will go to the park

A nice fantasy

I cannot even go down the hall

My limit is the feel of water temperature

I will often ask for frozen water

Set beside me here

Exulting in the first cold flow

From the first melting

Knowing

4

The circle is complete

For surely twigs

Are present in the reservoir from which

This water came

Electric transit merges twigs

With lapping drink

And as I feel the frigid flow

I’ll simply know

The twigs unseen are there

Along with access to driveways I’ve known

From whence I once reached destinations

Past St. Helens to forested cathedrals

Where a glorious twig I know resides

Giving not one hint of provenance

Regal in rest

I haven’t stirred an inch but I have felt

The wonder

And reached down to pick it up

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Stephen C. Rose

steverose@gmail.com I am 86 and remain active on Twitter and Medium. I have lots of writings on Kindle modestly priced and KU enabled. We live on!