|
Green Oaks
By Margaret Zacharias
When sun-tides ran strong in our seedling blood
And portent stars spun magic spells above
Our blessed tribe, we ate mushrooms, we
Lit camp fires, danced all night when men came home
Alive. We laid our heads in leafy beds
And slept secure beneath enchanted boughs.
We sprang from surging waters, early light.
We frolicked like innocent naiads, sleek
Young dryads. Your eternity was ours.
But then we heard the whisper of the breeze.
It sang temptation through those soft green trees.
We acorn infants scented worldly winds
Of destiny. We scattered north and south,
Flew east, blew west. We left you, after all.
Oh, lady of the lake, do you still ride
Your legendary barque upon that tide?
Do faithful oarsmen yet row at your side?
Do stags still collide on that rocky plot,
To capture the crown, to win the fair bride?
And did the king give you your Camelot?
Or were you forced to wander far and wide?
Abandoned prairie Eden, you recede,
You disappear into the mists of Time.
Our trunks grow thick, our bark turns rough,
We dwell like mythic green men trapped inside
Their ancient trees. Did magic, too, depart?
But wait. Perhaps it’s just our view that changed,
Perspective that has shifted. Yes, below,
Beyond, we still can glimpse our Avalon.
The clouds disperse, new seedlings freely sprout
Down on that mossy forest floor. See where?
The young fawns caper there. It’s we, ourselves
Transformed, who spread the verdant canopy
To shelter all. Green Oaks, though leaves begin
To fall (a sorcerer’s illusion cast,
That winter death approaches), Now our roots
Revive. The precious sap runs yet, to thrive.
Green Oaks, we have become at last, The Wise.
|
