The Old Lady and the Tree

Slow, slow Stop, stop Here, here The tree She hobbled between The Tussock grass Toward the tree’s The biggest, tallest She made for She stopped half way To look Look up At this tree Tall and brown Thick with Bowe The oldest of these tree’s She hobbled on to this tree Dropping her cane At its base Placing her hands on this tree In communion Connection To that One cannot see This tree The old lady She made her way round its base Keeping one hand on the tree Moving off to look around To what was on the ground No one knows how old she is This tree older still Creases of time Play out on both faces of this Old lady The tree She came into this world Under this tree At a time No one remembers But she remembers The time and this tree Personal Dreaming and this tree Upon a regular time She’d visit this tree But now Not so much As no one has time for this Old lady And her tree