A riverborn reflection Winter jaded, white on green Once a laden oak And now, statuesque as a memory Seemingly awake, Mindful of the year's last caterpillar A copper spark - hue dash Spinning Uncertainly settling into his woven urn Like a zealous acrobat rocking under shade Needle-wire undead tree let the wind cry, Giving voice to his skin To caterpillar: "Why do you hang here? Away from the others in their wind-chime chatter -Do you fear the hollow resonance? You, butterfly, shall be adored in equal measure after my time Sustained by sap and leaf Though I shall be cut down by those who planted me in the spring When water trickled, Then I drew from that everlasting well Now see, I bring a symbol of violence Here on this hill in praise of the sun Still you are silence Named and broken What will your wings resemble when you appear from this web? Your coat will turn Leaping about, zesty as rays upon silver The cost of transformation you will not find -Thirty tears will buy your passage Nor will you reckon with those who dig my grave; These gardeners are warriors Gleaming blades will strike, and they, the marchers They will seek my crown through the crossing of thorns For the carpenter I am For the writer I am From afar I will be spied And hear their chant: 'He, a Zeus of nature! Cast him down to leave his print- Let him lie in a sealed tome Let him carry the messages of Man' On the wind I shall hang like you, caterpillar Light among zephyr and rain until salvation"