Trees to Dream on

 
 
 
Pine mountain scent.
Majestic snow-globe memories.
Ancient silent stand ‘tween sky and earth.
Branches bask in wane of sunlight,
twinkling dark encroaching.
Fluttering leaves cast
in white lace, starry splendor.
Long cycling through death’s rebirths,
seasons, land and living countenance open to
winds of fate and change.
Days have been when brutal cold
demanding sacrifice saw hunt and harvest.
Nights given to ceremony,
frenzied dance, spontaneous gaiety
— a tribal stew of sustenance.
Vital heat, spirit and body
survival through winter,
built on timber, built on endurance
of sun, storm, forces faced
and reconfigured to bring us here.
Reconnecting, anchor tales
embraced in firelight, gift of wood, bright tinder,
hold of absorbed radiance. Nature’s abiding
traditions carry warmth to warmth,
life to life
year to year.
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.
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