First to go were the brambles,
tangling with scrub
and strangling vine.
Next the woodland carpet,
like some richly crafted Persian rug,
was rolled back
to expose
the nakedness
of bare rock,
strong in its solidity,
yet deeply fissured,
sheltering stubborn roots.
Is this, at last, true form?
Or, should the rock
be chipped away,
is there another, deeper truth?
October 2019