The raggedy tree,
Old Doug Fir,
Standing high above the land
Flings its boughs about
Holding on to earth below it,
Roots spread out with only
surface depth for tenuous purchase,
Is showing us the history of the winds,
Written by the bare patches
On the long straight pole.
It towers over all the woods about it
And marks the road, and reads the moving air
As those who live below mark the rain,
And wonder when this storm will pass
And spring will come again.
GBP 1/13/10
