TWO EDITIONS REMAINING
In your lengthy, delicate strength
you race straight for the heavens,
your thin, pale skin
a glowing banner of your invisible shield
protecting and calling you
as you stretch for the Light.
Wounds here and there – wounds everywhere
ancient ones say a bird flew through never to return,
others evidence of claws marking strength and power,
I wonder if not wounds proudly worn
like a badge of honor marking you as you, calling you
as you stretch for the Light.
Catastrophe brings you simply pure, ripe opportunity
To freshly grow and wrap your arms
around kindred spirits and potent soil.
Nourishing and encouraging one another,
you give attention simply and fully to growing
as you stretch for the Light.
Without reserve, you share your drink
With the thirsty near and far.
Your wise, ancient roots, reaching and sprouting,
seeding and blessing well beyond
the sacred ground upon which you grow,
as you stretch for the Light.
“Pando” your common clone
means “I spread” and indeed you do
and with your spreading over and over
you sway and glimmer while asking of me,
“What is it this day, this second, that you spread
as you stretch for the Light?”
Ah, Aspen – flexible, graceful, Woodland Queen
moved by even the gentlest sacred breeze,
you call all the children together
to weave their fingers and caress the world
with their golden, quaking whispers,
reminding them of the Light.
