On my day’s forest walk I discover
a large old oak, its hollowed-out center
shaped like a narrow arrowhead covered
in shadow -- like legendary winter
when young Arthur stumbled on gaunt Merlin
stepping magically from a tree -- future
king’s intro to wisdom. The bark’s curling
base leads to a dark hole, a large allure
to any curious poet. Should I
crawl in, risking my own chance with legend?
Merely poke my head, and then tightly slide
my whole frame through? How far should I descend?
What if I find God, or even hell’s gate?...
I think I’ll go home, and write my own fate…
Roger Armbrust
August 10, 2016
