The spirits at the dawn

What is fifty years in the life of a tree?

What is fifty years in the life of a person?

How many generations of ants lived with the tree?

How many iterations of truth passed through the person?

Did the eagle feather find the man?

Or did the man find the feather of an eagle?

When no one is here the ravens come to dance.

Like the wind off the ocean the present flows.

Is the tree in the sky or has the sky reached the tree

The ancient hobbit tree

Reminds all of the ants of their protection of our Earth

Branches narrowed and rough

Needles long and smooth

All make up the ancient tree under which so many

Have laughed and loved and laughed again

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Where are they

The spirits of this place?

Oh, there they are

In the slight breeze

On the trees at dawn

They rise up in the gentle tears

Brought on by recognition.

The laughter of the campers

Becomes the encouragement of friends

Seen and felt here now

And next year once again.

The Rock
The Lodge at Dawn

Author: Gerry

I welcome you to Sonomabuzz. I am Gerry La Londe-Berg. This started as a blog and immediately morphed into a poetry site. I started as a person and eventually morphed into a poet (among other things).

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