It stands there
Proud and immense.
Its branches spread in a glorious, joyful hallelujah to the risen sun.
The sky, clear blue yielding only
To silent airplanes criss-crossing to destinations unknown.
I approach the bark,
Hand outstretched to feel its gnarled warmth
To find I am not alone on this search for comfort, for there
Wings open to the warming rays, a butterfly
Preparing herself for a day of foraging for nectar amongst the hedgerows.
She rests, she basks.
Black flies too, seek the return of light after the night of cold gloom,
For no one in the garden is denied the succour of the great cedar.
We are united then, the flies, the butterfly and I
In thankfulness to the ancient tree, and her place
In the Centre of the Garden.
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