| Poem: The Forest (for 12/14/00) (based on the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins) Silver light on silver trunks Shimmers in the misty haze The butterflies awake from their daze And swirl about my hands in the freedom Of flight unbounded, language confounded With no words to describe the sights I see. I tread along the forest path, pathless; No roads penetrate through this gleaming dream. In the forest things are not as they seem… The dewdrops on the spider’s web… Likewise decorate the oaks and yews. As between the trees my soul walks through. A mouse pauses by a mushroom… The morning light gleams on her fur Making it shine silver, like the dew-specked bloom Of the white, white rose. I hear the forest’s gentle purr… Of the wind through the trees. The air smells of myrrh… And my soul is at peace. |