Cantilevered

P1010488

Cantilevered from the crumbling bank,
brought low but curving to the light,
this fir persists.
One heavy rain into the clay might
refresh its roots or bring it down.
What to do but fashion needles, ripen cones?

Through the forest in the slope behind me
sunlight warms my shoulders.
The bright patch moves seawards,
shrinks and fades.
I will not follow it.
Like the fir, I take what I need from this place,
learning not to ask “How long?”

(F.M. Boyce 27-09-2017)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s