Reality

There is something about reality
within a leafless bush.
After winter has enthralled all life,
and leaves it stunned by its departure,
for a brief time you can see
the fields beyond the hedge.
The image is broken by
dark twisted branches, thorny and sharp.
Demons can't hide there.
Earth yields
bright colors which part
dusky soil to taste the sky.
Hills of grasses take on
their first dew, warm noon with simple
ease until weight of frost.
Then the branches sprout life of their
own and muddy the view until fall.

             published in For the Love of Death, the early years, 2nd ed., S.I.N., 1993.