Understory

Something comes from trembling leaves
Which passes in the trees for truth:
Somewhere something in them grieves
For photosynthesis, and youth—

The shaking quiet of the stem,
The silent odor of the soils,
The morning haze that colors them
And from their surfaces uncoils

The rising glory
Of all the hymns of summer,
To shelter in their understory
An airy blaze of thunder,

To shelter in their spindly veil
The future giants of such art
As bundles in its shaky Braille
The coming world’s wordless start.

November 6th, 2005

November 11th, 2023
Magnolia