Thirteen ways of looking at trees after Stevens

1

Among the Holford Beeches
The only glittering thing
Was the eye of the crow.

2

I thought about three wishes;
One a golden beech
In which there are three, sleek crows.

3

A man and a woman
Under a golden tree
Are one.
A man and a woman and a crow
Laughing in the branches
Are one.

4

An October wind blows in Bincombe
Wave after wave of orange, red and gold
ripple after ripple, out-dazzling the sunset.
Piles of copper coins, rubies and gold
drift dune high against boundary banks;
treasure shored up against the oncoming tide of Autumn.

5

Beithe

Beithe wanders through her woods.
At her neck red ribbon; gold Samhain leaves about her feet.
Silver bark mirrors silver-soft hair. She smiles
safe and sacred from the ways of man.

Into her world the poet forces his way:
Crashes through bracken, rips tangled undergrowth.
Strip of torn scarlet spills
against startled silver bark. 
All charms broken; she weeps;
Lady no more.

6

Sail

Overhanging a glassy stream, offering the
Promise of comfort, grows her childhood tree.
Here she climbs to mourn her father, threading
Eglantine with heathers, nested in the
Leaves, making moon magic charms for him.
In time consoled she rests along a bough’s length.
All tears spent, she leans, seems to see his face below...

There is a willow grows aslant a brook.

7

Nion

Granny’s great, great granny’s aunt
Lost her virginity under an ash tree
On Oak Apple Day,

Twice.

And the little square book fell from the breast
Of her leather jacket.

8

Dair

The wise man planted acorns
Seeing wooden walls for home.
The fool felled his for firewood
because it spoiled his view.
And the crooked arm of the old oak tree
Points upward to the moon.

9

Uath

Beware of the door under the ‘thorn
That was Thomas the Rhymer’s blight.
Leave the smooth, ground stone for the fairy’s corn
Or be pixie-led tonight.

10

Dair

The golden bough shines
nurtured by the blood fed oak.
Under a Hunter’s Moon,
we kiss.

11

Ciert

Apple tree, old apple tree
We all come to wassail thee
Bud well, bear well
God sends you fare well
Let us pick
Hats full and caps full
And three bushel bags full
Huzza!

12

Ailm

“Spruce yourself up a bit, “he said.
What a cheek!
Five kids, HRT and a dead end job in Woolies.
But I did -
More glitter than a Christmas tree
But feeling just as tawdry and rootless.
“Last orders!”
Yeah, last order.

13

For the Chipko women -
What do the forests bear?
Soil, water and pure air.
Embrace the future - 
Satyagraha.