Change
You look longingly at the gap
between birch root and moss
seeing more than just
hole
or nest
but home
then, haven
for those
at a loss
out of hand
in the thicket
of change
and as you shrink to reach it
curled like the bark
that drapes
overhead
you pause, watching it
rippling
bristly bright with
lichen
unfolding as tree
now sea
now mirror
reflecting a drifting
to
not the safety
you sought
but the whirling refuge
you now
remember
as the sanctum found only
in change.
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