The Known

There is this quiet motion

When wind brushes trees,

Branches bend, a timeless marriage…

When there are the smells of summer,

Sticky pine and soft cedar…

When rivers are a language,

Creeping through echoes of green…

When shadows move, slow, deliberate

Undecided between dream and reality…

When the soft ground molds to feet

A carpet compiled by all seasons…

When hands make imprints

In the momentary wet sand…

When mountains are careful

with the selection of words…







(Click on image to enlarge. “The Movement of Lines”)

36 Comments on “The Known

  1. Beautiful. We have a Victorian cottage garden with a well and a stream I planted A wildflower strip along the stream that runs the length of the back. Butterflies and Bees birds and all manner of insects feast and fly around it. A neighbour asked why I had not m=strimmed the weeds …

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thanks Joan. There’s a bit of neighborhood pressures for lawns around here as well. Some have adopted wild yards, which I tend to like. But even those can look perfected to human standards.

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  3. I love this line “A carpet compiled by all seasons…” Around here, grass is expected to be Chem-lawned, mowed on the diagonal, and raked free of leaves within days after they fall. I love paths and trails in wooded areas where clippings, twigs, and leaves are left to their own devices. The last two lines reminded me of a line from a fav poem, Marie Howe’s The World: “The oak tree seemed to be writing something using very few words.” Well done. I always look forward to seeing you in my Reader, Elan. 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  4. So many ‘appeals’ to our senses. Much appreciated…and admired.
    Favorite line: When wind brushes trees…
    Interesting juxtaposition of “smells of summer,” followed by tactile descriptions “Sticky pine and soft cedar…” Good stuff! [Yes, I’m eloquent. ;->]

    Liked by 3 people

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