Wisdom

There is nothing straight in nature,

I want to say to my students,

As they sit in worshipful silence

Under a circle of angophoras;

Curled in upon themselves

Like slaters when a stone is lifted,

Perplexed by unexpected light-

They are looking for the certain path,

Tasked with the search for wisdom.

I say nothing, sit in silence instead

And wait for them to notice that the tree-

Whose weathered sandstone bark

Meanders to the sky, shedding itself,

Revealing a pale, silver trunk,

Reaches over their heads, a shelter

Of interlacing arthritic fingers,

Curtains them in a murmuring breath of leaves,

While its roots thread, unseen,

Searching for water, shaping the earth beneath.