O Green Rock cracked, riven in ages past,
sunk now where leaves age their greens to soil browns,
weaving their lives into the carpet where you sit.
How many years have passed to smooth your face
from the hard lines of youth, save for one crack?
What tragedy drove in two your hard side?
The wound still gapes but you are steadfast still
standing while decade old trees lay out stiff
half buried by their own leaves. You watched them,
their fathers, now you watch their brothers still
time passes round. Despite your broken side
you anchor life. Abundant life flows out
from your skin, so hard it should not bring life
but crushing death, yet trees wrap themselves round
rooting their life in yours, flies flit circles
above your crown where spiders weave their homes,
and though there should be no life in you still
from your grey ashen face comes moss – bright green.