croak

two ravens speak to each other in an overcast wood –
throaty croaks well-understood.
reedy trees overhead join the conversation
without hesitation
with creaks like doors left ajar.
their canopy is far
but they themselves are nearby doorway:
each squeak a call
and the weight of it all
for the sake of it all
draws me deeper than i might wander.

the sound of knocking branches in the breeze
brings my soul to its knees
as it is a language that speaks to my heart
right to the heart of it
right to the start of it.

walking on carpets of moss
like strolling on clouds, which seem to toss
my heavy thoughts
up against gravity.
and each tree-root cavity
is a reminder of gifts hidden from sight.

traversing the fallen-limber graveyard
with me breathing hard
causes me to loose track of time
time runs away
(where i wish it would always stay)
so…maybe a forest is a glimpse at eternity.

i can’t say with certainty
but the branches seem to dance
with a wish of a chance
that wind could be a contagious feeling.
and this sends my spirit reeling
by how moved i feel by You here
by how distanced i feel from my chronic fear.

in this conifer collage
this evergreen hodge-podge
each hue is its own vibrant voice
speaking of timshel – the gift of choice
and how do i choose?
how do i perceive the news
of the coming clouds on the opposite peaks?
then again the raven speaks
and the tree above creaks
and the wind is an embrace
this is the outline i want my life to trace.