Merlin furious, fell, can no longer
         abide deciduous, conifer, any bark
         limbed being ever since his confinement
         he has yet to feel, will stop at any cost
         to halt future’s relentless, unwinding cord

Speak of fires, infestations
Mountain pine so unholy
Speak of limb rot, dank rain fungus
Speak of barren lands, absent birds
No beak nor burrow to sow seeds
Of drought that parches to the root
Speak of gale force destruction

Sow contamination, the might of backhoes
Drill holes, piss gasoline, set bushfires
Hammer copper nails till blood-sap runs
Relish flattening the cracking fallen leaves

Stand with axe and hatchet
Give forth the mighty roar of chainsaw
Proclaim: There are no dryads here!
Three times each, enact these charms
To raze the forest whole of which I dream

         Dryads, thin as ferny fronds bend
         don’t break from fearsome spellbinding
         plead the earth's green flowing veins
         know floral time is slow acceptance
         sing a song of verdant rebirth

Speak of the sky’s cerulean silk
Under sun’s umbrella, the whispery breeze
Speak of pinecones shepherded to seed
Speak of owls, bats and chickadees
Sure to scour the insect’s worrying bite
Speak of rabbit, deer and swift vole’s homes
Bolster bark’s continual power to repel

Nurture foliate leaves, knotted scars
Signs of each tree’s struggle to new summits
See luxuriant shadows and chlorophyll play
Here, dryads dance, sway pliable limbs

Bring on the cooling balm of rain’s tears
Listen to the creak and rustle, sylvan movement
These are ways to raise a tree, prune its boughs
Pluck sweet bounty, give it room to breathe

Think, more than three, through eternity
Such rough-branched idols bring fertility
Shelter from shower or scalding solar watch

Over all your years of work or long ensorcelled sleep
Until your end or ours, these trees stand
Guard for you and we
Always give their very breath
So we may breathe

© 2023 Colleen Anderson