ANCIENT
Autumn is leaving, the outlook is cold.
The trees are all bare, there's nothing to hold
branches are creaking and thirsting for rain
buds are still hiding and waiting in vain.
The floor of the forest unseen in an age
is covered in leaves so thick you can't gauge
this autumnal gown degrades to the earth.
to fertilize ground, which helps the rebirth.
The canopy crown is up, high above
the Giants below do cradle with love
keeping them steady and holding them firm.
Feeding them moisture until it's their turn.
Shoots that are growing beneath this great shade.
Grapple for sunlight but gradually fade
fighting for water with siblings and kin
the strongest get fat, the weakest grow thin.
This library wood has seen many tales.
Fountain of knowledge of countless details.
Ramblers or lovers who walk down this path.
Initial the trunks and carve as they laugh.
Hundreds of seasons roll into decades.
History beckons, Titanic parades
stand at attention, and reaching for stars
Cedars and beeches and silver poplars.
By
Peter Middleton
© Copyright Reserved 2008