The Winter Wood

Out walking in a winter wood
I wondered how the trees withstood
the boredom of just standing there
in just one spot. Did they not care
what else the world might show to them?

I tutted and I sighed but then
I took a moment, looked some more
and soon saw I could not ignore
how in each tree, each branch, each leaf
a monumental masterpiece
of nature’s craft was shown to me
and I saw too that, though I’m free
to travel, that I mostly don’t.
I could make time but likely won’t.

I focussed on an old yew tree
and, as I looked, I seemed to see
just what it was to be a man.
Oh! Suddenly, I turned and ran
through noisy streets of frantic life,
slammed my front door and kissed my wife.