The Tree
I was a two year sapling
roots wound around the rocks and earth;
seed began on a mountain edge
and I worried of my future.
An ancient ash
who gave me shade
much late the afternoon
looked down at me
and understood my plight.
Its wind whipped torso
weathered hard
by years of endless storms;
a lightning strike that took a limb,
and still it stood for what was in
the deeper part beneath the bark
where trees have heart you know,
somehow without an uttered word,
gave me strength,
then shared a bird
who sang its branches high
and lit on me with whispered song
before it flew to sky.
Sweet peace came as I sunk my roots
into the mountains side
and I stood tall
renewed in hope
as clouds above me cried.
Blinddream 08/2012
I was a two year sapling
roots wound around the rocks and earth;
seed began on a mountain edge
and I worried of my future.
An ancient ash
who gave me shade
much late the afternoon
looked down at me
and understood my plight.
Its wind whipped torso
weathered hard
by years of endless storms;
a lightning strike that took a limb,
and still it stood for what was in
the deeper part beneath the bark
where trees have heart you know,
somehow without an uttered word,
gave me strength,
then shared a bird
who sang its branches high
and lit on me with whispered song
before it flew to sky.
Sweet peace came as I sunk my roots
into the mountains side
and I stood tall
renewed in hope
as clouds above me cried.
Blinddream 08/2012
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Seth James
Art James
M. C. S.
Gerald Andersen
nilesite
ASH ...
Salon.com
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