Tree Learning

A poem is a tree with branches that point
Skyward and prick the air, its bulk and weight
A point to pin thoughts on and roots that dig
Down deep below and drink of silent, dark
And swirling streams. It sips its meaning,
Sharp as needles, straight from Gaia’s bone and marrow;
Cold and piercing, truth is sent up, veining out
Through bough and branch, leaf and fruit, ever forced
To finer points till, blossoming out
In many hued grandeur, facing the world
Bold and candid, forked lightning in reverse
Trapping the mind and teasing with answers, it leads
You to look for the root in the fruit in your hand.