Can't see the Woods

We can't see the wood for the trees
Our eye looks but never sees
A single leaf is a haystack needle
Hiding, no matter how we wheedle
Branch broke by tree falling
Not heard no matter it is calling
Lace tracery, a webbed cocoon
Unwary traveller, lost too soon
Gold adorned branch, copper leaves
Shade givers, sunlight thieves
Stepping through on sun-dappled path
Stillness ensues to stifle laugh
Sunlight riches, a poor man's gold
Much easier to find, gain and hold


Terry Rhiannyr
March, 2013