I think about all of the versions of me
Spawned from a sacred and sanctified Tree
Forged in a furnace of iron and flame
Weaved from an Alder Tree
Given a name
Raised as a poplar in villages green
Courage and strength from the seasons between
Strong and unyielding while rooted on shore
Longing for a seedling in some distant moor
A leaf on the current from a creek to the sea
Seeking eddies reflects a new me
Cones that I've scattered in brooks and in bogs
Splintered and scorched among discarded logs
Rising once more, a cantankerous root
Sheltering snugly a red-spotted newt
All the while growing and withering tree
Alas, a continual seasonal me
The Alder, when cut, bleeds a Burberry red
And so does mine boil when a word goes unsaid
Older than Ancient and marvelous Trees
Before there were mountains or emerald seas
A flicker within me, I know, is my power
It's naturally laden in each blade and flower
My birth signifies I am kin to the Alder
Upon every shoreline, behold, is my Alter
Give thanks and praises, divine was my birth
Each day, I shall cherish, while rooted in Earth