To Know Out There, Simply

How a tree twists in the wind, but doesn’t,
the entire tree never in unison if we care to notice.
For if we did, we’d come to know how

half a tree, and half of halves, never meet
other parts, never touch other sides, like hands
and feet of a body working together but never brushing;

along here is pressed by the wind pulling
and shifting another quarter through limber branch
across the body, wild air turning only a limb

on one side though the entire tree moves as a being, or
how only the leaves of one branch on the tip
of a larger is flipped by hint of coming rains.

Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found in over sixty magazines and journals, including Still: The Journal, Poetry South, Mad River Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Review, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia, and the poetry books Voice Hunting and Memory Train, as well as the forthcoming Drifting in Awe. Visit his website at:

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One Response to To Know Out There, Simply

  1. DamagedGoods says:

    Kind of reminds me of something I read in a philosophy class, that humans at one time were with more legs and arms etc but due to the GODS? being angry they were split in half and punished by ssub consciously searching for their other half forever (until death)

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