The Tree - Story Poem

---------------------------- He was the first of many of his kind, grown long before his siblings came to be And from the start it was his job to mind all tiny things that weren't as strong as he When furry squirrels raced up and down his bark in search of someplace fitting for a nest, he left them leaves to warm them in the dark and kept them safe when they lay down to rest He was alone but for the fox or dove that sometimes found the clearing where he stood Yet over time, the tree had come to love his solitary life deep in the wood And there, three hundred years serene and still, green in the spring and golden in the fall, with leafy branches keeping out the chill, his roots spread out below and he grew tall Then came a man and woman to his dell They built a house of stone down in the snow and soon a baby shared their home, as well A child the Tree, in time, would come to know The years passed by and he watched on as Pearl (for that is what they called the precious child) grew from a babe into a little girl, who sat with him in spring, when days were mild One day, Pearl brought the Tree what looked like seeds wrapped in a scrap of cloth from Papa's shirt, then sat down at his base amidst the weeds and tapped them gently down into the dirt For three long days, the Tree was tossed by rain but soon the sun returned to dry his roots and in the light that warmed the washed terrain, to his delight, he could see tiny shoots And with the kind old Tree and mindful Pearl to tend their needs and shower them with care, soon tender leaves would carefully unfurl, revealing bright red blossoms, here and there It wasn't long before the flowers spread out on their own, as roaming plants will do, not slowing until all was sown in red, and Pearl had grown into a woman, too The Tree looked after Pearl for eighty years He watched her growing old, as time progressed Then one cold day, four solemn mountaineers came up the hill to lay his Pearl to rest Where she had been, the Tree now felt a hole and yet, he knew in time the pain would end But met with grief that night, atop his knoll, he let leaf after leaf fall for his friend All through the winter months, the Tree would rest and when he woke in spring and raised his head, he saw with wonder booming in his chest a single yellow bloom amidst the red Now centuries have passed and Pearl is still there with him on the hill, just as before, a quilt of yellow keeping out the chill, at rest beneath her ancient sycamore ---------------------------- January 11, 2023