Hazel Tree Sonnet
My wild subconscious mind has given me
And I would seek to know what it intends
In dream, the seeming of a hazel tree
Please talk to me of hazel trees, my friends
I keened for wisdom, and in answer got
To keep me from the dark and poverty
An Ogham tree, a nutshell, wand, or what
Please talk, my friends, of hazel trees to me
I hear you say the truth is mine to find
Within myself, or high up on a hill
But dearest friends, if you be good and kind
Please talk to me of hazels, if you will
And I will listen, and make sense of it
Ye Gods, my friends! I have a sonnet writ!
© Gail Foster 15th November 2017
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YOU NEVER KNOW
Did the Russian brewer know his vodka’d splash the face,
Of a thin, dying, sailor, about to leave this place?
Did the cargo captain know his ship would plunge and plow,
Through stormy, gray, swelling seas, so vodka’d mark a shroud?
Did eastern woodsman know the Witch-Hazel tree he fell
That juices in its bark and leaves would hold a gorgeous smell?
Did the plant distiller know that spirits from his plants,
A heady blend of essential oils, would twirl a final dance?
Did aromatherapist know, while making husband's aftershave,
A blend of vodka, Hazel, and essential oils, would be a gift of grace?
Did engineer husband know, while packing up his suitcase,
That flying 'cross the nation, he’d shave ill brother’s face?
Did weakened sailor know his wife would ask his kin
T'scrape a razor ‘cross his face and pucker up his skin?
Did the newfound brothers know the aftershave they shared
Would bond them oh so tight, beyond death's parting glare?
The answer to these questions is that one can never know.
For it is God, through works of man, who directs the blessed flow.
Hannah Rain
aerobatic antics
signal the dawn
on th hazel tree-
squirrels scramble
a winter store for free