The Nature of Nature

She stood to near to be respected,
And to far away to hold hands …

A chill swept the room just before her footsteps arrived,
and just before her air kiss’d goodbye,
The heat would round its way back
in a sudden spurt of relief.

The color of her nature – mercurial
The shape of her aura – controlled
like the Chinese magnolia pungent in spring
exotic and light with angry limbs and gay pink buds.

Her forest produced birch and firs,
pines and elms growing effortlessly towards fruition –
fed by the nurturing environs’.

She had dug up her roots to be transplanted far, far away
Too far away to hold hands
And too near to be respected.

A Chinese magnolia cut down by the red guard –
told to grow up with blue hydrangeas and palms.
Casually she would play in the surrounds,
no longer under watchful eyes.

Tho’ nibbled by the fear
that the trees created for shade from the harsh sun
would ultimately be brought down by their own life source.
And always the sense of remaining …
a Chinese magnolia on the grounds
of a 17th century hacienda.
To near to be respected and
Too far away to hold hands.