Hold me like a creeper does
When the tree is about to dry
But the destiny of the vine is
Not constrained by the time left for tree
To live
It is its ability to complete its journey
On the trunk, debris of leaves or for that matter
In the cervices of dead wood
Lying on the forest bed
Waiting to be swallowed by the beetles
Of time
May 16, 2007
curiosity, concern, compassion and collaboration