dodona oak (the tree of life) sheds leaves
nutritious-which feeds blood and mind today
theres not a jot (from which the present cleaves)
can be dispensed with all lifes array
from first to last has leaf-mould in its clay
eve is that apple she took her bite from
the best and worst cant thwart its dna
head-shaking wont dislodge that first aplomb
which even now keeps thought under its thumb
so much in self cries out to be made clear
a yearning glimpse confused by so much bracken
a touch of gold the sun wrings from the drear
and lightest hopes too often seem to thicken
fulfilments near at hand come cradled stricken
(oh read the cards theyre face down in the mud)
but figures at the dawnside faintly beckon
step back from grief or wrath an untouched bud
dares to suggest a wisp of hidden good
not to be made too much of but discerned
and wrought into a pendant (gold inlaid)
where tree and flesh (symbolically concerned)
look to a future longing for their trade
the apples fall but core is not dismayed
behaviours but a passing itch or sneeze
(a moments cost but plaster-cast not jade)
in caverns long sight-lost an ancient frieze
cries for new eyes again (a smarter breeze)