One tree
One tree in the fields came right down in a storm.
We clambered all over it’s face and it’s form.
Laid up on it’s end for an age with the cows
and all of us kids hanging down from it’s boughs.
A hide out or castle, a fort for the boys,
shelter from rainy days playing with toys.
This relic descending to dirt and to dust.
Another place distant, out of reach, just.
A temple divine where we’d gather and play
but then parts got sawn up and carted away.
Throughout all of this it continued to grow,
to push out some green leaf that falls with the snow.
So slowly it turned into table or chair
to be cherished and coverted equally where
memory minds you of long ago town
or places much deeper and further on down.
‘Course later came fire and destroyed it to death
that allowed it to drift into river and breath.
Mineral forms each pervading the loam,
root becomes shoot beneath shining blue dome.
