A thick and brittle tangle,
I claw and rip at all who pass.
Last to leaf, and bearing yet
Brown in winter,
With roots ancient beyond time,
I writhe my inch by annual inch.

A patient sprawl,
I clutch at crags
And caress the contours
Of the hills,
Scattering my spotty, shattered
Six-foot shade.

And you who stand my equal,
Who stride above, below,
Or even hack your sterile
Paths across my broken turf;
Or who like the rodent or rabbit
Enjoy my leathery screen,

Know, I know you.
In lust or loneliness you may
Seek, secrete, or scatter seed,
But the harvest will be mine,
And in the bluster of Winter,
I will sing your song.

08/13/1999

Author's Note: Memory of City Creek, Salt Lake City.

Posted on 04/22/2009
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes