I walked along a quiet shore
and wanted not a beauty more,
when lo, behold, near rocks and sand
a tree stood there, perfectly planned.
Its feet were buried in glistening waves.
The sun was lapping moss and age.
Its hands and fingers watching ever
carefully. Its break came never.
A grizzled white in bark that shines,
an emerald green moss dressed like vines,
a deep and stalwart blue in motion
framing ageless tree-shaped notions.
Stopping once to glance I thought
a moment passing, freely bought,
a gift in fact when glance and glance
became a more meditative stance.
A perspective in my mind was growing,
deeply, newly, freshly knowing,
standing there to watch time passing,
leaves changing, questions asking,
peaceful still with answers fleeting,
we, the tree and I, were meeting.
