This came after the pleasant surprise of opening a book at The Strand to “Parable of the 6th Night of Creation” by Muriel Rukeyser, having earlier in the day had a conversation with a friend about us wanting to go find a tree suitable for sitting and talking and looking.

Here’s the Rukeyser bit–

The Sixth Night: Waking

That first green night of their dreaming, asleep beneath the tree,
God said, “Let meanings move,” and there was poetry.

For A Friend

There’s a branch on a tree
in a garden who is
waiting and bowing
to the goodness
of the wind in her leaves.

She has smoothed the bark
for leaning and sitting
and eased the view
of what is above and below
by parting her clapping greens

to reveal the mysteries
in stars and stars
and flowers and flowers
and subtly too
in the friends

swinging their legs
beside each other,
noting as they tell their stories
the nearly magical
evening change in the light.

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