A Channel Changer

Updated: Jul 21

The tree outside my window

tries talking to me

as I’m writing,

at times distracting,

at times inspiring,

always reminding,

by its structure 

and design,

of nature’s way 

of speaking metaphorically,

it’s branches, leaves,

blossoms, bole,

all whispering their secrets

I can almost catch

if the wind is right,

if my mind is open

to listen to the unheard,

if my heart is open

to see the unseen,

if my hands are open

to channel its being.

But hate of self

and others for being

not that which we appear

overtake me with a force

fierce in its directness

of how directly opposed

we are to Nature’s nature

that I stop listening,

the tree stops swaying,

and I go turn on the tv.



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©2020 by The Unknown Poet.