You are the brighest spruce of my world,
Small by humble nature, huge by your fate.
You are the pine cone before my dawn,
What I seek and what I highly rate.
You are the tangled roots and my leaf mould,
A force in a jail, silently containing itself.
I am the fossil sleeping in the compost,
Yielding ground to winter drowsiness.
![enlarge image Orogeny by Laetitia Debruyne / Fr[ÿ]soler](/portfolio/artworks/Orogeny_medium.jpg)

