—with you wise men wonder
and so, too, do I—like fibrous
trees uprooted at the seams
gone forth their way to die—

—but in the forest where
the adamantine branches sway,
embarking slow and still, there
reach some saps to play—

—I’ve seen it fast in nature,
swell and ebb, in fire and sky
she knows what groves are coming
and she knows the reasons why—

—and yet the Master stemmed
the still, and yet She never knew:
what end and soon beginning came
and how the trees He slew—