The Forest for the Trees

            (A blurry look at Silverton trees)

"Stop," the chainsaw scolded.

"You can't see the forest for the trees!"

So, I ran into the wood,

twigs breaking under my feet

frail fern brushing me

scooting squirrel

and shrill crow

chiding me:

look closer

still

see the forest 

for the leaves

for fungi 

turning grub 

and mold

the forest for the air 

circling 

within each minuscule pore

stroke the mossy bark

and know 

earthworms at work

understand a white oak 

dream of tree 

kingdom

phylum

subjects

amazed at the blindness of 

stumbling feet

I couldn't see the forest, 

not for the trees

but for breathing, 

growing minutiae

inversely huge as space.