Spirit of the Tree

Spirit of the Tree

I came upon a solitary tree
whose gnarled roots clutched the rim
of sandstone-coloured canyon walls
rising from the deep abyss below.
Her limbs were bent and twisted,
stripped and polished silver-grey
from countless years of wind-blown sand
as if she had been sculptured by Nature's hand.
Alone I sat in muted tones of solitude
to watch and learn the wisdom of the tree.
Hours passed, or so I thought,
before the arid shades of desert twilight
settled on my peaceful reverie,
telling me it was time to go.
Not hastily did I retreat my steps
but reverently moved towards this wizened Sage,
reaching out my hand to offer thanks.
Thus, placing gentle fingers on her limbs,
I felt the life force pulse beneath my skin,
filling my mind, my heart, my soul
with wisdom from some distant past.
What joy I felt but sad to go,
but as my hand I lifted up,
a final gift was given. I heard
The Spirit of the Tree softly whisper,
"Farewell to thee,"
as if it were from heaven.

Maggie Red Rose