Ghosts of sycamores, all in a row, blocking our view of the sky
In daytime you glow in blue mixed with green,
all through night you lurk silent and grey
The breeze is your lover on sun washed days
mixing your seeds, as sure as desire
How do you manage such lusty feats
With basking and growth as your only calling
In daytime you glow in blue mixed with green,
all through night you lurk silent and grey
The breeze is your lover on sun washed days
mixing your seeds, as sure as desire
How do you manage such lusty feats
With basking and growth as your only calling
Hawks and crows stage a battle for space
in your mountains of leafy green richness and light
Rocks at your feet hold you safe against floods in a world where water rules
Fall, you will. A certain ending. Each of your fathers have fallen or burned.
Sure as your leaves are traded each winter, your seeds will find homes and your trunk will surrender
Meanwhile, such service your presence brings
A well of warmth in damp valley evenings
Home to the spirits of hundreds of species.
Never still, always breathing