The Spirit Tree

{Of course,

For The Branches,
with so much more love
than words will ever hold}

The Spirit Tree forever lives -

and then again and again,

so do we.

The Spirit Tree
is where we build our nest -

through the rays and the glows

of the solstice’s test...

the folds of the

branches will never be blown bare

by the bitter north wind,

nor the southern flame and flare.

The Spirit Tree

firms its roots in the soil of life;

it bares stories in the forms of

leaves, flowers, fruits, and strife,

that fall into the spiral

of new buds and "remember whens" - a song

in the form of storms

growing a history deep and strong.

The Spirit Tree

is alive with laughter ringing,

baking bread, holy water,

and voices singing -

it soaks up the rays and the rain and

the tears and the pain;

with the cries of birth, death, and waiting

running in its veins.

The Spirit Tree

is here, and it is now:

echoing in a chorus of

everyday, eternal sounds:

we hold and are held by these branches

from where we first fell down,

from where we first flew up; and

from where the bees hum to the rhythm of the woodpecker’s drum.

The Spirit Tree

is not a mystery,

but a common vow that rests

in the nests of the chicks and maturity -

eternity round the rings of its trunk.

It paints the sky with rainbows; pages

of bark decorated with blossoms held together

with woven memories through the ages.

The Spirit Tree

cannot be seen

except in the form

of you and me,

where if you look closely,

your heart’s eye can find my soul’s mind;

it can picture a place

that gives our soul breath and through our’s, thrives.

The Spirit Tree never dies -

and then again and again,

neither will we.