My Human Disguise.
Now is not a moment in time,
But all of time in a moment.
Ice hangs off ledges in the creek,
Which passes through the still sublime.
The trunk of the pine tree is bent
And leans toward the water to seek....
The tree splits at the lower bole
And higher up its halves are whole.
Its lower needles graze pink blooms;
Above the forest canopy
They brush the sky like tiny brooms.
What we cannot see they can’t be.
This now is ever-present change
Not even time can rearrange.
