Apple Tree

This old apple tree
has begun to be
more than memory
of more than days
of climbing children,
of silk-white blossom
blessing the garden
with snows of praise;

it's grown a creature
older than Nature,
a Truth whose stature
we can't deny;
though twisted and split
with lopped branches, it
is the whole spirit
of earth and sky,

of water and fire,
the mystical gyre
that, doubling the spire
of helix, brings
our every face,
our every space,
our kindred, our race,
our gatherings,

five seeds in a star
that announces we are
beyond near and far
yet of the tree
blessing time's garden
with dropping blossom
teaching the children
eternity.

by Hannah Smith

Other poems of SMITH (15)

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