You are wise, gnarled tree
unbelievably so.
You consult with the wind
teach the zephyr and snow.
A safe haven for birds
and creepy-crawly things.
A home for lost angels
who have mislaid their wings.
Your roots run deep my friend
you know where you have been.
Always you have been here
in the stories of kin.
I ask "how can it be?"
"No axe has chopped you yet?"
Knots don't make good lumber
so the hatchet forgets.
-SGR
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