1
Twitchazel the haunted Crabapple Tree was a progenitor
Within her stunted branches dwelled the happy ghosts of pollinators
But even at five hundred, Twitchazel was not at all dead
And in one odd spring she sprouted a bud that needed to be fed
2
A hive of ghost Bees hung from her highest limb
But ghost pollen will keep one skeleton slim
Still they helped spread the word that their master was still alive
And in need of the dust that was a must for her bud to survive
3
Poppyseed the Hummingbird heard the call for a donation
He was a giving bird and sensed Twitchazel’s frustration
So he swapped the yellow for some of the bud’s musty nectar
And spit the swill out behind a Rosebush named Hector
4
And so it goes in the enchanted wood
Every now and then comes an act of good
The apple thrived, though it grew weird and hirsute
Safe because no Eve would dare pluck such a hairy fruit
Saragun Springs 
Leila
NATURE comes alive in these great Tree Poems, or is “named,” or the Plants and small Animals like Bees are given their due. It takes great life, livelihood and spirit to return to Nature the Life she deserves and has given Us. Everyone from Geronimo, Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse and Chief Joseph to the great anonymous Druid “pagan” poets and Merlin and his Sister Gwedryn (they started out as nature poets) in between is applauding these pieces – somewhere. Probably IN The Leaves.
Love the rhymes!
progenitor/pollinator donation/frustration nectar/Hector hirsute/fruit plus all the more “simple” ones all = Word Genius.
dale
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Hi Dale
An amazing thing happened that dead as hell looking tree in the image taken over the winter is fully green and alive!
That is a good sign. As I get older I like stuff by Whitman and Waldon because they knew we are murdering a beautiful, but in its own right feckless world. Thanks again!
Leila
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…the foggy, branching image is gloomy, alive and cool, and it has a BEAT to it, like the lines…I can see the roots of the tree in the hill….
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“I knew the dread / Of the bushy plain / And the beauty / Of the moonlight / Falling there, / Falling / As sleep falls / In the innocent air.” – Wallace Stevens
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Mmmmmmmmmm, Poppyseed (Homer Simpson)
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