Wood: a poem describing my bottom-up thinking

I can’t see the wood – because of the trees,
Well, maybe they’re right, but I disagree;

I can see beauty in power and line:
rod-back battalions of towering pine,
bold sweeping branches, labyrinthine roots,
broad-trunked horse chestnut, soft delicate shoots;

Spines hiding conkers; trunks leaching their sap,
fine-sculpted acorns for fairy-folk cap;
rough touch of oak, and dark menacing yews,
silky-smooth birch kissed by tenderest hues;

Fresh spicy perfume from Winter pine leaf,
emerging Spring saplings mute as a thief;
Summer’s gold canopy, verdant moss mound;
jewel shades of Autumn, leaf-litter ground,

Such splendour surrounds me – leaves me in awe –
delights all my senses, and asks ‘what’s it for?’

Maybe I take it too literally –
all my horizons are too close to me;
but I can take people just as they are,
take to them warmly, or put up a bar,
or I can look on and see the great plan,
make my decisions, and be what I am.

See also: my Reflections blog on Bottom-up Thinking