What we presume is true we have no doubt.
It lies in shadows where it tends to be
Hidden from inspection, not found out.
Beliefs are more like leaves upon a tree.
Light shines and they are prettier to see.
What underlies them, on the other hand,
Stays hidden like the ground on which we stand.
Text: I am linking this to dVerse Meeting the Bar. I will be hosting and the form is Chaucerian stanza or rime royale: seven lines rhyming ababbcc. You are welcome to join us writing a poem in this form.
Photos: “Trees in the Harvest Moon’s Sun”, above, and “Deeper Autumn”, below, by the author.