03. The Song of the Tree

Come, climb in me, feel my rude strength.

Come, trust my embrace and mount, till at length

From a nest of green leaves you survey the far scene,

As an eagle might look from its lofty domain.

You will feel like a king

As upon me you swing,

But to get to the top you must climb.

 

I am strong, but I bow to the force of the storm.

I have roots that go deep to support my tall form.

I have arms that can cradle the young of a bird,

And to me swains tell secrets that no one has heard.

You will feel like a king

As upon me you swing,

But to get to the top you must climb.

 

Weekly Times  20.1.61