Ode to Wood, Ode to You
The sunlight reveals your texture and curves;
designs like fractals, repeating;
a play of symmetry and novelty whose origins are mysterious.
The beauty in your form is overwhelming and too great to contemplate.
No sense can be made from the infinity of your patterns.
To walk and not to notice your utter complexity;
to gaze without recognizing the delight you offer.
I am glad that I see you now,
each extravagant board that lies side by side to form the floor of this porch
who once was a tree.
And what about you, dear reader? What about the complexity of your feelings and the fractals of your veins?
You are too great to contemplate. No sense can be made from the infinity of your patterns.
I would be glad to see you now, to witness your beauty and to tenderly acknowledge your extravagant presence.
Perhaps you can do it for me, since I am only with you in spirit.