Queen of the Heath

She is no straight, tall elegant beauty
No.
She writhes and rears
out of earth.
A wild unbroken silver mare
bucking
in the evening sun.

Dappled with moss and lichen
eight limbs of
hoary
thick bark,
rough to the touch,
twisting, turning
over each other.

Sinking down
then raising up
young smooth skinned limbs
tipped with unkempt
skeins of delicate twigs,
catkin beaded
dancing in the breeze.

Mother to all around
who stand witness
to her joyous,
unfettered
holding
of this place
of meeting,
memory and wonder.

She says simply
“Be extraordinary”

© Ali Walters January 2020

This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Queen of the Heath

  1. I love these photos of the Birch. And what a great poem – full of vitality.

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