Beech tree, Buxton, Derbyshire

Beech tree near Buxton in derbyshire.

 

The Song of the Tree.

 

Under the bark the sap is green:

Living blood of the living tree,

Rising, rising from the earth,

Unbidden,

Unfurling, verdant in the sun, uncurling.

 

Sunlight and the air we breathe, sustain the growing tree;

Feed the beasts and forest people,

Feed us all; dependent, rooted in the soil.

 

A gift of wood is offered by the tree,

Promise of light and heat,

Heat and light from the burning fire.

At life’s end, mortal bodies are consumed,

Returned to earth from whence they came,

While souls soar from the burning pyre.

 

From the wood flows music, hidden

Deep in pith and kernel; spirit of the tree,

Song of the sap ascending; sounds reborn in pipe and drum.

 

The heart of oak and yew and beech

In artistry remains,

In mask and face and carven forms,

Released, reprieved, chiselled

Compensation for the loss of living wood.

 

The tree recounts the passing years,

Records the cycle of the seasons,

Reveals the unknown time, the living past, long dead,

Preserving answers, puzzles, reasons.

 

At our dire peril

We destroy, lay waste:

Bulldozer, flame and axe

Damage our world, our air, our lives, our land.

Unthinkable, a world soon empty, treeless, bare,

A global Easter Island.

 

 

(Published by Peace and Freedom Press,

Spring 2004. Vol. 19, no.1)

 

Done