The Secret Stead is the pen name of a UK-based writer and
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ave you ever taken the time --even if only in passing --
to see how trees flirt with the wind,
as they flash and flare
their leaves like girls
with full body and velvet hair,
or how eaves of wheat overhang coyly
draping their stemmed knees,
trembling with open lips
and waiting for a flood that rips
through the fields; this is nature:
not just of you or me,
but a homage to fertility
and of beauty far stronger;
and have you ever taken the time --
even if only to take a breath --
to see how every stem suffers
a little death, the briefer
the sweeter, or the longer
the more hollowed out the tree
will be; its carriage of leaves
having fallen so close to its head,
will mark the knell of autumn
or hark the winter's spread,
when even deep roots run thirsty,
hungry and dry: this is nature:
not just of you or I,
but a homage to longevity
and of seasons far stronger;
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even if only in dreams --
to notice how we climb
the trees of our minds; shaping
the elusive into meaning
when nothing is what it seems;
searching for divinity
by prayer or by pruning
branches that leave us hanging
in the air; forever reaching
for the terraces of freedom
to play truth or dare
with creation; this is nature:
not just of you or me,
but a homage to all humanity
and of life far stronger.
Published 30 December, 2010
