My roots reach down spontaneously, playful in their way.
Elusive, restless movements in earthen red clay.
Desperate to be free…to push boundaries in the dark.
My branches are the rest for the sparrow & the lark.
When I am free to grow – when I am not held down…
I carry nature’s sceptre… I wear her battered crown.
I feel the earth beneath me…knowing currents of the age.
I embrace the changes, even bitter human rage.
Underneath my canopy, I encourage windswept lovers.
I play with happy sons and rest with harried mothers.
A haven in the rain, you may stand beneath my leaves.
Eat of all my fruit…even fools & thieves.
Encouragement I offer, to those that wish to see,
That I am more than leaves…I am no common tree.
I symbolize remembrance, with the planting of my seed.
If you cut me down…you must know that I bleed.
I am the tree of life, a lung for all that live.
My roots go deep. They don’t forgive.
Darkness is their home, but my leaves live in the light.
I symbolize this life, with hope…with might.
© The Secret Poetess, March 2017