Ring Of Trees (Poetry)

(An image from a dream)

Significant — a ring of seven, eight ...
I can’t be sure.
Black against a summer sky — no leaves.
Their boles and branches lumped and stark
they towered, seeming high —
a mystic grouping on a gentle rise.

No leaves, and yet they were not dead
the sap was singing deep
as though waiting for the breeze to give a sign.
Circles within circles
held a message wood must keep
secret ’til the old gods realign

the planets and the world of men
crumbles — fades away
the deserts flower — lush and green
polluted streams run clear again
the hunted lion reborn as king
and Nature, in its own good time
claims back everything.