What, ‘Til Dawn and Days Gone On

"All plants are our brothers and sisters. They talk to us and if we listen, we can hear them."

– Arapaho

What did sister-forest
    with the long, ivy hair
         falling dusk everywhere
              say upon the meadow
That her infinite, open mystery
    may be freely entered, blissfully,
         with critters and wind-whispers
               among the findings you find there?
And how many multi-days
    can you find her sunlit rays
         following features figmented
              in the haze?
A chilly brook runs through her hope
    and time before all time has spoke;
         the one, two, three of antelope
              tread lightly in the grass
A meadow open with gentle breeze,
    simply as "just" must be;
          her neighbor fair
          with grass, and clouds,
                and rocks for us to rest ourselves
Time passes over as time spins,
    begins anew, the sun shines through
         to roots and bushes
              while climbing morning moves again
The climbing morning in sunshine
    as East a hue of blue again
         crawling slowly up like
         yawning life's first rouse;
              it enters day anew again
The craggy trenches widths apart
    massaged and bathed in light,
         leaves swaying daily,
         all for hours
              slowly counting rays
              that brought them
Stillness passes slowly westward
    as all things are made true again,
         and logs are laying there decaying
              as bugs and mites find work again
There, finding patterns in the random,
    the shadows and the creaks again,
         but treaded lightly, one may see
         a sprightly little shroom sprout up
               in the twilight hidden there
So forest whispers,
    Meadow's whiskers,
          Bathed in western light
What did ivy,
     Day and nightly,
         Find to have to say to you?
And what 'til dawn,
    And days gone on
          Will you take away from here?