Tortula Ruralis

Tortula Ruralis

(The Star Moss)

I

Each pellucid drop glides down the awns

and nestles between the verdant folds.

The small green leaves and drop embrace,

To uncurl with the morning dew.

Contorted leaves

Gratefully receive the gifts.

With life restored,

They greet the morning sun.

Their first breath drawn

With the drop.

The day begun,

Work begins.

Strands of cinnamon roots dig at the earth,

Breaking the rock,

Collecting the dust,

Building the soil, one grain at a time.

Their life’s work all for the future,

In time immemorial

Giving,

Asking little.

Speck by speck,

Nutrients gathered.

Out of dust,

Comes life.

What else needs so little,

But dust and dew,

Yet gives so much

To the future?

Their tireless work,

Their own undoing.

They wait,

Their work finished,

Their replacement begun,

The “higher beings” move in.

Are they thanked,

For their work,

Their sacrifices,

Their lives?

II

The hart’s tongue must,

The fern trusts in them.

Their new beginnings

Within that emerald nest.

They sprout,

The fronds unfurl

In circinate vernation,

Like the shell on the back of a snail.

With gentle care,

And warmth,

And moisture entrusted

To them, they flourish.

The first beings cooled in the penumbra

Of ample fronds.

The roles reversed,

Now protecting in return.

III

But, will the blackberry care?

Years removed in time,

Still upon that same warm earth

Is the stalwart maple grateful?

Can they remember

So long ago?

With roots that reach so deep

And leaves that reach so high

Have they forgotten the first,

Or can they remember

The ones who so tenderly

Gathered the soil?

Perhaps they do.

With brambles bent,

The berries bow in humble reverence.

To honor those that came before.

The maples branch,

Arms outstretched.

Keeping watch

Over those under bow.

It rains and

Streams of life roll down the trunk.

To nourish those below,

To return the favors of long ago.

Or is it for their own,

To take the light,

To steal the drink?

With nothing left for those below.

Who can know,

But those above,

And those below?