for an anniversary
I have always loved wood,
the smell of it, the grain
under the hand, the sinew
of living wood upright
in its roots, the green
it breathes to the world,
the crazy salad of colors,
blossom and leaf,
and the eyes where branches were,
knots and boles,
the way as Mark said,
men are trees, walking.
My whole heart is walking,
love, to you, on this,
our day of wood,
the grain of us, the rings
remembering, the way
you will feel like time
in my two hands
when I touch you again.
David Mason
David Mason lives in Tasmania. His new collection of poems is Pacific Light (Red Hen), and in March he will publish a book of essays, Incarnation and Metamorphosis: Can Literature Change Us? (Paul Dry Books).
Latest posts by David Mason (see all)
- To the Other Planets - September 21, 2022
- In the Caged Garden - September 21, 2022
- At Home in the Imaginal - February 21, 2021
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