You, the Process

Quentin Wagstaff

A wind-worn rocky perch,
trees bent in agony,
sentenced by the west wind.
Horizon, greeting the mountain tops
with a cloudy but gentle caress.
Sunbeams dancing about
as the canopy will allow.
Distant sounds of running water
heard above the moans of hunch-backed trees,
announcing the arrival of spring.
My worries and problems leave me.
Peace and contentment fill my insides with
a warm glow, as I sit looking
at everything in general
and nothing in particular,
comparing life to nature.
The bent moaning trees
prove that perseverance
will allow me to grow strong and be tall,
for they too have been singed.
Thunder happens only when it rains.
Rain in this forest ensures survival.
Sunshine itself, reward paid
for suffering and sacrifice.
Alberta's floral emblem
nurtured by rainfall.
First thorns, then buds, present blossoms.
God speaks to me through my eyes;
my mind looks
deep
inside my soul,
house cleaning.