Of  Pines And Paradigms

At an elders knee, beneath pine cathedrals,

Grace became my peace and answer of perils,

Not solely in worldly substance, but mystery

Taking me in pursuit of blazing light, history;

Finding needles of truth upon forest floor-

Absorbing joy in quiet, beyond God's door,

A scented fantasy of aroma arrogant sweet,

Below a roof of tangled branched complete,

Like a home arising in new paradigm, at a blink,

Mesmerizing droplets of time, confused, in synch

Rising in a fit of freedom and great fertility,

Co-existent with ours, yet belying eternity.



Copyright©  by Robert Wetmore
All Rights Reserved