Junipers at Lake Heron

Juniper branches arch between me and the jade lake water.

One stretches out to the snowy Sangre de Cristos.

Blessing me with its shadow.

Where the shaggy grey scales of bark have been rasped away,

A sinuous streak of warm amber shines—

Russet-gold smoothness

From the rough motions of jagged twigs

Growing nearby.

The scarred branch is older, heavier, swaying;

Rocking easily in the same wind that

Drags the ragged younger twigs

In their wild, sawing dance.

This one blaze of shining honey wood

Captures my eye.

Here—where the branch is naked,

Bare to the breeze,

My hand is drawn to the soothing,

Sensuous gold..

~~~

Will I become thus—as I age?

Rough outer layers

Worn, polished to silky suppleness

By the frantic actions

Of those around me?

What was once a wound

In the sap filled greenwood—

Shines with beauty

In a later sun.

— Virginia Beck