~ APPRAISING HOME

Through stalled air,
Unshadowed light,
A few leaves fall
Of their own weight
My woods oppressive,
The sky gray.
It begins in mist
Almost at the ground
And rises forever.
The poplars file silent,
Almost natural
But not quite,
Almost eternal
But not quite.

Here is what
Has always been.
Here is what
Will always be.
Even in me,
The eternal quest
Returns in rest,
Even to the slightest of
My interrogations,
A brush of wind now
Licks my face and answers.

My head is loud
With the labour of words.
My tongue hungers
For the sweet of speech.
But it is in silence
That my hope is,
And my peace.
A song whose lines
I cannot make or sing
Sounds Nature's quiet
Like a millennial root.