Mountain Maple


even trees notice

there's a fence
between them.


Small, quiet pond with
roundwater drop of leaf,
no need of stem.

See it rise...
into lance, feather,
perfected heart-shaped form.


Oak leaves, white, black,
red to scarlet and bur --

     smooth lobes
     to prickly bristles
     and back,

bringing out the myriad accents
and turns of a phrase.


Perhaps leaves fall simply
to carry away all that we
thought we needed to say.

     And perhaps trees in this
     way purify themselves each
     year knowing that there is

         no thought so large that it
         cannot be written on
         the smooth, plain surface
         of but a single


(Photo: Mountain Maple (Acer montanum), spring, the Alps)

| go to Picture/Poems: Central Display | | PicturePage: Week III |
| Map | TOC: I-IV | TOC: V-VIII | Image Index | Index | Text OnlyDownload Page | Newsletter | About P/P | About Cliff Crego |

© 1999 - 2002 Cliff Crego  All Rights Reserved  

(Created: IV.7.1999; Last update: III.4.2002)
Comments to