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The Sacred Tree


Yew and I and you
Express what’s to be expressed
This open secret

Ancient Trees: Haiku


Though clouds grow, rain falls
A sweet, soft secret wind blows
The root path shines pure

Oaks A’borning

Thanks to my kind friends Phil and Susan this piece of mine was included in the Mind Trees Of The Urban Forest* project, performed by John Chambers.

Sweet Nothings


In soft silent snowflakes
The Great swirls all around us
Whispering sweet nothings
Intended for no ears but those
Of all these ancient trees
And – if I attend – mine



An afternoon given without stint
To reliving in rawest detail
Of mute mutual kinship
The savage damage dealt
A beloved nearby woodland

(Never so pretentious as to have
Had itself proclaimed forest)

Wild winds have been by here
Nobbut youthful vandals
Gone in a flash and yet
Demanding for themselves
The coveted title of tempest

Uncounted trees lie horizontal now
Their naked roots groping vainly
Through this now empty stillness
Their bold majesty dethroned untimely

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