The Tree

The meadow is beautiful, tall grass, wild blueberries
And beyond the wood calls to me as it has so many times before.
The trees, cedar and pine, stand tall and strong
Only giving slightly to the late day’s wind.

I slowly walk through the meadow, enjoying the warmth
Of the sun upon my face and the scent of the grasses
Plying my nostrils and playing with my child’s memory, they
Brush gently beneath me giving soft cushion to my feet.

My path through the wood is in front of me and my endless
Curiosity takes me towards it, then on it
Leading me into the sweetness of the piney balsams
And the strength of the ashes and oaks.

A blue jay screeches overhead calling to his mate
As the dove coos gently so to sooth the very wood itself.
A lady slipper creeps into view on my right and then
On my left a rhododendron, soft white flower adorned.

I have taken this route many times into these woods
And even knowing the great pines towering above me
Block more and more of the sun’s light till one marvels
The light can make its way to the wood’s floor through cover so deep.

The dampness of the wood touches my skin reminding me
Of a recent rain and its reluctance to give up its quenched thirst.
Still I walk forward feeling drawn inward to a point yet unknown
And even so knowing I must continue until it is found.

As I look up of a sudden a giant oak more dead than alive
Jumps into my path blocking my way and forcing my stop.
The path should go to its left or to its right but I cannot see
Any sign of such though surely there it must be.

I look up at the tree and it down at me, its once limbs
Now knotted reminders upon its bark, its dead branches
Memories of younger days, sunnier days, when oak did
Reign supreme and all around gave way to its might.

Now bitter for those days the oak defied my passing daring
Me to go around to one side and then to the other but
Somehow, each time, blocking my way, pushing me back
Forcing me to stay and causing to fret for what I must do.

It is but a tree, and more dead than alive, I can surely go
Around it at will and laugh at it as I do for I am its better
And I am stronger and it will not have its way with me, no
It will not gain league over my will.

I see the roots just above the ground readying to trip me as
I try to pass but I am smarter and will but step over them
And gain freedom from the will of the tree and show it now
And forever that I am the control, you can see in my brow.

No, this is not the way to do it, I know this now and must
Reconsider my move lest the tree reach out and grab me and
Take me its prisoner. No, I will wish the tree to dust
And I will prevail for I have been told I have strength, it must be.

So I pull deep inside me the forest air and prepare to do battle
With my foe for I will defeat him and in glory I will pass it
And give it a look that will wilt it and shake it and keep it at bay
For I have the knowledge to always have my way.

Yes I will move against the tree now but wait what has happened?
The carpet beneath has entrapped me and holds me still, I cannot
Move, it has taken my will. How dare it do this to me, how can
It do this to me, I am not wrong, am I not?

The tree bends it branches towards me to grab me and take me
Its knotty grin staring at me and chiding me to retreat but I will
Not be bested, I don’t have to go back, I can just stand there.
No tree can defeat for it has not the power, no, not anywhere.

The tree has gained allegiance from its fellow tall pines that
Stand to its sides, guardians of the way, protectors of the tree.
I look to their top but that I can’t see and now what of me,
Me and this tree?

I cannot allow this to happen, the tree’s anchor will not let it
Have dominance over my person for I am not threat
To its well-being tho now it has grown wider and darker.
It laughs at me where I stand, taunting, I hear it louder.

I can go back, I need not care about this tree, it will not follow, It will never have me. Perfection is my plan and I grin at the thought
That I can turn my back on it, this tree, right now as I ought.
I turn, no, it won’t let me, it holds me, it casts a spell.

I feel my chest and what is it which makes my heart so thump now.
My breathing is deep and I can feel the heavy furrow of brow.
The spell is so evil so strong and consuming, how did it gain entry
Into me so quickly and take my person away from mine of sentry.

It has replaced my joy with fear and cast its ugly pall
So I may not be happy, no, not happy at all.
I no longer remember for what brought me here
Yet now I am trapped, oh Lord, how the fear!

I beg the tree its mercy and a grant of its clemency so I might
Continue my journey to where, now think as I fight
I know I must be going, yes, sure I know where and now I will travel
And leave behind my fear before I unravel.

Oh no! Its branches have caught me and now I am its prisoner
For it will have its way with me, yes, no, I don’t know any more.
Start up in the bed, straight and tall I do sit feeling my mind race in a fit The pain in my chest now tells me it was real but the tree, what became of it?


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