Stirring its boughs and rattling
The leaves and then subsides,
And the leaves nod and turn
Theirs facets this way and that
In the gulf of quiet after
And in that vacuum it seems
The tree has been plunged
Into water and the branches
Lift in a weight of fluid,
Slowly assuming another gravity,
And motion sinks into a pause
And wills nothing.
The second lapses and the
Tree is furious once more
Spilling gouts of air that
Ricochet from all quarters,
Coordinate to coordinate,
Ravelling a constant speed.
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