GRANDMOTHER TREE

 An ancient tree grows in the wood

Her branches crowning the canopy.

Her roots dig deep beneath the soil

For the water there and her strength.

She is the center of the wood.

And squirrels and crows chatter in her boughs.

Among her roots the fungi grow.

With the ants and voles underground.

My daughters come not to my side

Neither for wisdom nor for company

How can I call? They do not hear.

They may not come till I am fallen, fallen.

The sun shines brightly on her leaves

And powers her green chemistry.

She knows the rhythm of the breeze

And sings the song of the rain.

She loses branches to the wind

And beetles burrow 'neath her bark.

She nurtures seeds against her fall.

And scatters them on the ground.

Oh Grandmother have I come too late?

Your bole is cracked and you are fallen fallen.

Whisper to me in this late hour

What wisdom have you gathered in your long, long days.