Congruent to Tao, The Forest is nameless
Hidden away, IT’s ephemeral lake
For the twisted wood, the tree remains blameless
With tearfall from heaven, and roots that quake

A damaged tree which is sure to hollow
Taproot’s dead; unpollinated stigma
Secondary growth just may not follow
As biodiverse as IT’s enigma

But within a tree is the spice of life
The emergent layer which THEY have tapped
Bonsai trees are ornamented in strife
Around General Sherman, heads aren’t wrapped

In our mind’s eye, a fungi’s protection
Above the hearth, our spirit’s convection