When the Trees Outshone the Sun
When upon the mossy rocks I climbed
I took my small respite
And I smelled the clean air, took it in, and made it mine.
I stole an insight of the land,
The great mounded rocks and saw such blight:
(Very long ago) of sleeping giants, felled by Man’s demand.
The trees hung low,
With promise of cool leaves, so I moved on
Into their comforting fingers, though some may call them boughs.
The wind moved through the trees,
Those leafy greatened obelisks, and gave song
In communion with my thoughts; a reverent sea.
And now the trees themselves gave voice,
Their outstretched arms all filled with birds,
It filled the windows of my mind, to see nature’s simple rejoice.
And still I climbed the rocky hills,
My hands met cuts from bark and rock,
Such sharp-fanged persistence, have those foes of my climbing will!
When my climb finally did end
I looked upon the forest and beheld, my gaze and mind a lock,
On Rocks and trees as they began to blend.
The sunset came but not looked me,
I merely saw the land, and smiled
And remembered and bid goodbye to those pretty trees.
The sun hath fury and hath shine,
But its beauty did not overtake the wonder of my climb.
