Life
Poetry by Rowan Blair Colver
As I clambered from my own roots and onto the outcropping
Of shoots from another being, to spectacle at the miracle of
Life which gracefully clings to its very thing in the tiniest nook
Where the litter of yesteryear has been mulched to detritus
Feasted upon by the millipedes and earwigs which moisten in
The transpiration and condensation that forms in the dimple
Of branchfare and sky, so with delicate pinks numbered five,
On stems of lingering fingers which reach for the sun like
Children on a mountain, which perhaps is only a small hill
But to witness self as the boundary between light and dark,
Between earth and air with only the flesh to be apparent there,
Like little loving flowers growing in the nibble of the tree fork
Like the painting pot of Artemis on the symbology of Pan
Can we not know the meaning if not anyone can?
Where the provision lays , where there is sun, nurture and rain,
So is the travelling spirit of existence in its fractal velocity
Creating colours and sensations, aroma and life... in cycles.
As I clambered from my own roots and onto the outcropping
Of shoots from another being, to spectacle at the miracle of
Life which gracefully clings to its very thing in the tiniest nook
Where the litter of yesteryear has been mulched to detritus
Feasted upon by the millipedes and earwigs which moisten in
The transpiration and condensation that forms in the dimple
Of branchfare and sky, so with delicate pinks numbered five,
On stems of lingering fingers which reach for the sun like
Children on a mountain, which perhaps is only a small hill
But to witness self as the boundary between light and dark,
Between earth and air with only the flesh to be apparent there,
Like little loving flowers growing in the nibble of the tree fork
Like the painting pot of Artemis on the symbology of Pan
Can we not know the meaning if not anyone can?
Where the provision lays , where there is sun, nurture and rain,
So is the travelling spirit of existence in its fractal velocity
Creating colours and sensations, aroma and life... in cycles.
Rowan Blair Colver
Poetry by Rowan Blair Colver
As I clambered from my own roots and onto the outcropping
Of shoots from another being, to spectacle at the miracle of
Life which gracefully clings to its very thing in the tiniest nook
Where the litter of yesteryear has been mulched to detritus
Feasted upon by the millipedes and earwigs which moisten in
The transpiration and condensation that forms in the dimple
Of branchfare and sky, so with delicate pinks numbered five,
On stems of lingering fingers which reach for the sun like
Children on a mountain, which perhaps is only a small hill
But to witness self as the boundary between light and dark,
Between earth and air with only the flesh to be apparent there,
Like little loving flowers growing in the nibble of the tree fork
Like the painting pot of Artemis on the symbology of Pan
Can we not know the meaning if not anyone can?
Where the provision lays , where there is sun, nurture and rain,
So is the travelling spirit of existence in its fractal velocity
Creating colours and sensations, aroma and life... in cycles.
As I clambered from my own roots and onto the outcropping
Of shoots from another being, to spectacle at the miracle of
Life which gracefully clings to its very thing in the tiniest nook
Where the litter of yesteryear has been mulched to detritus
Feasted upon by the millipedes and earwigs which moisten in
The transpiration and condensation that forms in the dimple
Of branchfare and sky, so with delicate pinks numbered five,
On stems of lingering fingers which reach for the sun like
Children on a mountain, which perhaps is only a small hill
But to witness self as the boundary between light and dark,
Between earth and air with only the flesh to be apparent there,
Like little loving flowers growing in the nibble of the tree fork
Like the painting pot of Artemis on the symbology of Pan
Can we not know the meaning if not anyone can?
Where the provision lays , where there is sun, nurture and rain,
So is the travelling spirit of existence in its fractal velocity
Creating colours and sensations, aroma and life... in cycles.
Rowan Blair Colver
