My Bundles of Twigs
Are More Than Sticks

A monstrous mountain of air
surges across the face of the earth in a breathing wave.
The huge firedraft reach sucks up wind from the south, as
Its mighty hand rolls over woody grey sentinels
shaking them to their roots.
Bare boned skeletons sway violently in the rolling, boiling tumble.

It has been so from the beginning of time.

A lone figure appears in the after calm.
A quiet source of strength,
She bends to retrieve deadfall
from the littered, life-giving loam.
She binds the Great Pruners work into bundles of Promise.

So it is in the now of time.

In the aftermath of the hearth fire,
When the warmth has done its work,
Cold ashes are restored to their beginning place.
The Earth takes nourishment and shares her solace.

It will be so to the end of time.

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