Monday, August 8, 2016

The May Tree



The May Tree

I dreamt I was an ugly, gnarly old tree
Completely hemmed in at the base,
My thick bark is armour- like to see
Through all my years this came to be
I stand firm in a cold and lonely place. 

My back growing around barbed wire
The fence pressing me forward,
My young spring branches admire
Protective thorns, each a tiny spire
Falling upon my own inbuilt sword. 

Ivy chains me to the stubbly earth
Holds me in place with strands like rope,
In my dreamscape I still have worth
The sap inside me still gives birth
Annually to sprays of flowery hope. 

Only seasonal changes gradually made
And I am held fast without self will,
Inevitability keeps opinion in my shade
Pride in my perfect blossom, air to pervade
Relinquishing control tastes a bitter pill. 

Gazing down from my top most height
Sliding under my very base structure,
I see an adder sunning in warm light
Deep hidden in my roots out of sight
Safe for now, peaceful at this juncture. 

Stand through winter as I stood in spring
I hear the message in the sleeping voice,
Arrows I must take and feel the sting
To wait for hope no friend will bring
But sadly realise that I have no choice.

 

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