Black Poplars


The day I discovered the black poplars
massive in their roar

twenty-five years working on the house
while they’d stood by the green river

just the other side of the broken-down fence
and through the willow tangle

and how I'd never sneaked through before
that also rose gusting through me

as I crept down and slithered
grabbed a twisted-over branch

and stood under the host of leaves,
all-praising and gospelling

the ceaseless dazzle of underleaf
like Atlantic gulls on a gale-swept stack

cascading around its stillness.
But let that be...impressions, expressions...

just allow me a standing, a location,
an alignment to the pounding question

as this day implodes into uncertainties.
The trees stream straight purpose;

they are ascending one-pointed into a resounding blue
which suddenly self-presents

and descends to the root.
Thick seething earth, and nothing separate.

And now how it outspreads,
hushing


From: Travels in the Middle Land, Dhamma Moon, 2013.


Posted: Mon 21 Mar, 2016