The Twisted Tree

We felt a touch of cold last year in Spring,
when aconites and snowdrops stayed abed,
and snow still nestled in the crevices
of that gnarled tree, her knuckled fingers spread
to bid us welcome to her earthy home.
In summer, village children came to play,
to climb into her ancient arms, to sing,
and swing, to make her branches gently sway.
But Winter brought such icy gales to blow,
to splinter, whip and break those boughs laid bare.
With deep roots stretched and torn beneath the earth;
her creaks and moans affirmed her sore despair.

And yet this Spring she stands, enduring strong;
while you, still young, have yielded and moved on.