The Grandfather Tree I was only three years old, when they found me asleep in The folds of your roots already you hand rings so thick, That you bulged. By the time I was five I could climb up the folds to your bottom branch. Still thin, young in tree-age. You became my fortress. Hidden among the leaves, I peered at the world. sat with the birds, Thought a bit. You aged reaching for the sky And I rose with you. Reading in the crook of your bent arm. Beaten by the wind your bark peeled. My own wounds less obvious healed. I no longer climb to sit on high. I rest below Among the roots For you to know. Abbe would love to connect with you at http://www.abberolnick.com
