Ode To An Ancient Sycamore

Rugged roots, so old, so knarled
Yet trying still to hide
The bit of bank the creek has kept
Intact as it swirls by. A slender foothold does it seem
For such an ancient tree
Bent and blistered, wide and worn
The forest’s elderly. Yet ‘neath those creaking branches still
A fortified retreat
Is found within those naked roots
The old tree’s trembling feet. Entwined inside that tree’s great roots
A young child sits and dreams
The whirling creek a sign, perhaps….
Life’s quicker than it seems.

by Carol Bogart

Other poems of CAROL BOGART (5)

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