The trees open their arms to the wind
and turn and creak. Walking the paths
we find turkey oak, beech, tulip tree
leaves littering the gravel, leaching
water through collapsing membranes.
As rust and ochre darken into soil
and eucalyptus bark rolls up its thinning scrolls,
speedwells, grasses and plantains inch
their noses through silica
and quartz, shale and bits of drying wood,
flecks of colours spilling hints
to anyone who will only look
that there's no logic here, no sense
of order. Just everything, all at once.