Good Wood

Warm wind blows
gathering sparkling sand
from desert dunes undulating endless 
unto horizons beyond comprehension
Sizzled specks swirl in whistling whirlwind
till caught at the foot of a tree long dead
aged timber once by an old dry well
where melting words passed
between a mouth full of grace
and lips full of grit, spit and venom
when a bell tolled in the distance 
then crystal waters swelled to overflowing
to seal the deal of forgiveness

How these zesty zephyrs dance
twirling dervish about the ankles 
of a newborn corpse
tease truculent around scarlet
four inch iron, deeply impaled
while the world's laughter
rises and fades into hot wind

For the tree remembers
notes the same sorrowing eyes
that bore soul deep, dreadful 
piercing glances that lanced
deceiving hearts, but was always
the true look of Love
Now they forever sleep
droop in final fatigue
war weary yet somehow, replete

So the tree weeps
wails deep in its timbre
with all Creation
and cradles all that is Good
upon the bloodied bosom of its wood