In The Glade
And I found each tree brooding;
Huddled together in the wood.
Then ‘neath the trees as I stood,
They loomed tall and foreboding.
Shimmering green and massive,
Rooted in time and impassive.
They talk to me, as I with them;
They are quiet and secretive;
Their fear of humans is intuitive;
And much (I fear) is contemn.
I close my eyes, they talk to me;
I talk to them; we agree.
They play with shadows drawn by light;
Some find them dark and inviting.
Their bark, like wit, is biting;
That heal the imagined slight.
Their tears are leaves that come again:
These giants that live and fen.
07th May 2009
Copyright © SC