Ode To An Ancient Sycamore
Rugged roots, so old, so knarled
by Carol Bogart
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.