Thursday, October 30, 2014

Thursday Poem - Masks

What will you wear for Halloween?
The trees are changing faces, and the
rough chins of chestnut burrs
grimace and break to show their
sleek brown centers.  The hills
have lost their mask of green and grain,
settled into a firmer geometry
of uncolored line and curve.

Which face will you say is true—
the luminous trees or the branches underneath?
The green husks of walnuts, the shell within,
or the nut curled intimately inside,
sheltered like a brain within its casing?

Be careful with what you know,
with what you think you see.
Moment by moment faces shift,
masks lift and fall again, repainted
to a different scene.  It means,
the cynics say, there is no truth,
no constant to give order to the great equation.

Meanwhile, the trees, leaf by leaf,
are telling stories inevitably true:
Green.  Gold.  Vermillion.  Brown.
The lace of veins remaining
as each cell returns to soil.

Lynn Ungar, from Bread and Other Miracles

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