A fragment

It’s not alchemy
         but the transfer of energy
from one expression to another
         the green leaves fused
by decadent sunlight
         the long slow quantum feed
and we of it
         an expression
fed as we are
         by a single voice

the rose
         and its fragrance
that disengages and drifts
         on the balmy summer air
All that fades
         and all that persists
if only for a time
         an articulate nature
that makes its presence
         known constantly
the gestures of oak and ash
         as the howling wind
thrashes their branches
         all that sounds off
in the silence
         and we who have
born-in-the-blood
         words for it all

It is an intimate universe
         every breath a cosmic force
and everywhere apparent
         the coalescence of love
that drives one body
         to seek another
to lie cocooned
         in the time-tendered threads
of a common narrative
         that knows no end

John Lyons