Crooked Branches

Up there in the swaying trees.
Mangled more so in the breeze.

The plans that seem to shatter,
Make way for those things that matter.

Rarely goes as I have planned,
But the path was far more grand,

So I wander here within,
With that twistedness akin,

To the knot in my belly,
These hands, what do they telly?

Tells directions I might go.
Make it fast or take it slow.

Wander closer to the side.
Hold it tight and don’t confide.

Soon I learn how I was wrong.
And my agony prolonged.

Ahh, those branches with the crook.
Maybe take another look.

From the base to the tips.
To the ear from the lips.

Looks so messy from right here,
But how much does not appear?

Found their way so perfectly.
Their tangled way is the key.

To mastering this being,
Because what I’m now seeing.

Are they curving on some fate?
Is their way to them not straight?

Witnessing the truth of these.
From discontent, finding ease.