Every time I walk the garden in this dark cold winter weather I find another shrub flattened, more branches down. We had some snow and rooks gathered by the cattle grid looking for food. The collective nouns for rooks are interesting - building, parliament, clamour and storytelling. I like the last best.And we have had rain - snow goes, rain comes filling the stream and bursting forth unexpectedly in new springs.
JUST VISITING
Somewhere around four thousand years ago
the Great Bonsai was born of flame:
a seed fell two hundred feet onto charred earth
and germinated.
As time turned, the tree grew - massive, magnificent,
though not the tallest. Man came, felled other timber
but the huge trunks shattered when they dropped,
became useless.
Then, John from Dunbar spoke fire for the sequoia,
saved those pillars that held the high Sierra sky,
stopped that blue cathedral roof from falling,
being desecrated.
And now we can stand, heads back,
and stare up at its many immense limbs,
and gaze into the forest canopy at its crown
and wonder.
And I am here, and I am gone,
seventy or more rings of the Great Bonsai
if I am lucky, of no roots, born of a different fire,
just visiting.
















































