What seems so simple, so inevitable,
is so preciously and fleetingly divine, like
the sun-kissed wink of a cloud, or warm
wind that tickles your cheek, gently
laughing across each and every follicle,
like these stems, that pierce so intricately,
a tangled labyrinth that breathes,
thinks, thrives.

Appearing rough and jagged
it merely smiles back, wanting nothing
but to feel the sugary-sweet embrace
of a crystal rain, the fierce whipping
of a winter wind. Pleasingly perfect, punctuated
by a purely poetic sense of perspicacity –
the nature of nature engulfs
and enthralls like a gentle smile
or a sly wink.

He tells me that
it is mine, and I smile, because
I know it is the truth, a truth
often tacit but secretly
and sacredly understood.