salmonberry bushes at rest

i have made it in
ways that others will
not, cannot, do
not. others
make it in ways
that are not for me.

i mostly want
what i do not
have. others
might want the way(s)
that i have made it;
often we do not
see how or what
we have.

outside, i am
right now inside,
there is a jumble
of barren branches,
denuded by Winter.
outside, right now
i am inside,
there is a small street,
only partially kempt.
right up to its edge
there are trees, evergreen.
each bough laden
with hundreds, thousands,
of individual needles,
bright in their dark green.

from where i sit,
inside, a few
feet from outside,
the individual needles
cannot be seen.
all i see is green.
all i see is tree.
all i see is Summer,
frozen, naked,
in the vague,
pervasive,
light.

a tiny plant is encased in a single droplet of water

Published by Zak

poetry of place. words in service of the wordless.

One thought on “salmonberry bushes at rest

Leave a comment