Chiaroscuro

Bright leaves, tongues of flame

holding slender twigs; those thin pillars

resisting seductive breath of breeze,

binding the tender leaves to more substantial limbs

within the deep core of the whispering tree.

Even the setting sun

cannot penetrate so deeply as this,

where darker leaves

stand in rapt attention

as the night-clad trunk,

solid and unmoving,

dumbly regards neither

retiring sun nor rising silver moon,

but worships only

the empty

blue ether.

Image: The Forest by Paul Cezanne 1902-04