Tree Roots
At the bottom,
the ancient one,
tangled root of all that has been,
forgotten fountain left unseen.
Helmet's and hunters' horns,
old men muttering,
brothers betrayed,
women played upon.
Branch thrusts upon branch,
nowhere a free one.
Yes, up there! Keep climbing!
See if they'll hold you.
That high one bends already
to become a lyre.
Sonnets to Orpheus I, 17
Marvelous image of knotted, gnarly roots perfectly paired with the sonnet.
ReplyDeleteIt's kind of like a cross section. Exposing the roots connection to all that has been. I can sense that Shishkin was keen observer.
ReplyDelete