GROWTH RINGS
The arc lines of life
Grow in layers imprisoned within the bark,
With a seed at the circle’s center,
Rings spreading like ripples across the lake.
In the end they are set hard by the chain-saw’s incision.
No sighing , no growing, silence.
Yet the annulations have not been erased,
Like a cerebrum,
Everything that has been experienced has stored in these whorls
Though they can neither sing nor tell tales.
The rain’s moisture, the snow’s caress
The chirping from the bird’s nests in the branches,
The roar of thunder and lightning overhead,
The black bear’s embrace, the woodpecker’s kiss.
And more, much more…
Memories like air, melodies like springs,
But there is only silence.
As the glade rotates, it spins the record around
If only there were a needle,
Which by tracking the grooves
Could excavate, resuscitate
The song of life that should not be silent.
Grow in layers imprisoned within the bark,
With a seed at the circle’s center,
Rings spreading like ripples across the lake.
In the end they are set hard by the chain-saw’s incision.
No sighing , no growing, silence.
Yet the annulations have not been erased,
Like a cerebrum,
Everything that has been experienced has stored in these whorls
Though they can neither sing nor tell tales.
The rain’s moisture, the snow’s caress
The chirping from the bird’s nests in the branches,
The roar of thunder and lightning overhead,
The black bear’s embrace, the woodpecker’s kiss.
And more, much more…
Memories like air, melodies like springs,
But there is only silence.
As the glade rotates, it spins the record around
If only there were a needle,
Which by tracking the grooves
Could excavate, resuscitate
The song of life that should not be silent.
