Friday, August 22, 2014

New Dawn

Tread gently through my woods,
Or tread here not at all.

Gentle seeds lie rooted here,
Along twisted oaks of the past.
Your passing through may cause, I fear,
More damage than its cost.

Yesterday Man was here
With chainsaw, lathe and axe
He felled a mighty oak like so
And vanished without a tear.

Years of labour, love and rain
Destroyed in a single blow.
The loss of years' of joy and trust
Can you name an equal pain?

Now I tend ferns, hardy and light
That nothing can uproot
After the wildest stormy fight
They'll spring up underfoot.

Yet oaks are my woods' delight
Standing tall and firm and wise
Bearing the scars of stormy years
With nary a single reprise.

So tread softly in my woods, if you will,
Or tread here not at all.
My oaks are watching, scared and still,
And tremble at your footfall.