Change

 

You look longingly at the gap

between birch root and moss

seeing more than just 

hole

or nest

 

but home

then, haven 

for those 

at a loss

out of hand

in the thicket 

of change

 

and as you shrink to reach it

curled like the bark 

that drapes 

overhead

 

you pause, watching it

rippling

bristly bright with 

lichen

 

unfolding as tree

now sea

now mirror

 

reflecting a drifting

to 

not the safety 

you sought

 

but the whirling refuge

you now

remember 

 

as the sanctum found only

in change.