All the Times I've Looked at This Tree

sky above, mountain below

portrait of the artist as an old tree

All the times I've looked at this tree
With the sun coming up behind
Its branches signalling me
In a way aloof but kind,
I've felt something stir inside
My heart that I thought had died.

I've had to turn away, retreat
From the blinding light of that thought,
But even then the something sweet,
The something that can't be bought,
Has lingered, an aftertaste
Of something that can't be chased.

So I take a step back, exist
In the one moment that contains
Everything I somehow missed
In all my pleasures and pains,
And wait for some kind of sign
In the shadows soft and fine.

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