Powers of Place

(1)

The Earth

was shaped

like a steeple,

a peaked

 conical mound 

rose up out of

a rolling field.

A circle of round stones

painted gray green

by tenacious lichen

graced the crest

of the hill.

Young trees 

were rooted

scattered here

and there…

Peace permeated 

 Powers of Place,

And I breathed in

 Mystery – my story

while gathering

acorns

at my feet.

(2)

When I picked

the cracked shells

I remembered

the little oak

 I grew 

last summer, 

smothered under

piles of winter slash

 that were thrown

over his head.

I hate the idea of

 annihilating

a tender seedling.

 Beginnings of

all kinds must

be deeply held.

I’ll try again

with these

who told time

 by March winds

and the sun’s

intense heat,

 splitting husks

a month early,

obliterating the old clock,

no longer a measure

of seasonal turnings.

 (Viburnum unfurls

 its leaves too,

and Celadine

 is spraying

 sage green).

Pocketing a few

I was mindful

of Roots,

 pure white

specks peeking

out of splits,

protective

 brown casings 

containing all

nourishment

needed for Life –

An Oak Tree “field”

beckons,

  form emerges

 from

“Original Instructions”.

How astonishing!

Someday

 a splendid tree

with a canopy of

leafy hands

will offer

 her acorns

as a gift…

I soaked the seeds

in the dark.

Two days later

I planted all seven,

 covering

them in white

 cloth, dampened 

 under the seed moon’s

 pearl ripened light. 

Roots will

 burrow deep.

It will be weeks

before I meet tiny

pale green shoots,

 to rejoice with, 

weaving the three-

Seeds, me, and

 Powers of Place,

 into One

Enduring

     Story.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s