Hieroglyphs / Claire Brandenburg

Trees gathered on hillsides
stand as a wall 
before me.
A fence against the world.

On them, 
a host of wormlets,
have eaten trails 
into the heart-wood.
Like master calligraphers,
hieroglyphs are written,
wandering stories
both strange and familiar
and on the edge of sense.

I should understand,
for I’ve read this before
crossed paths, ups, and downs,
wanderings and overlay.

My soul feels it deeply
but words escape me.
Meaning hoversof beauty and wonder,
and on this road would I further wander.

Hieroglyphs: Copyright 2021 by Claire Brandenburg. All rights reserved.

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