The Poet-Tree

Lacking words
I went looking
to write them down
tell my stories.

I sat down in the shade
back against a trunk
face to the leaves
eyes to the sun.

The leaves began to fall
one by one I caught them
held in my hand
a word on each.

I spread them on the ground
eager to see the inspiration
I’d received from
the poet-tree.

Musing in the Night

She appeared to me at night
alone in the garden
she waited for me
I didn’t come
I was afraid
but somehow I thought
she’d wait for me
that every night she would ask
and I would decline
yet I just liked knowing
that she was there.

Like a fairy godmother
people flocked to her
filling my garden at night
they’d follow her
and she’d grant their wishes
if only they listened
they were hungry
they wanted to hear
all she had to say
and each received
a gift for their attention.

One day I became
jealous and curious
I wanted one of those gifts
I wanted to know why she was here
and I was no longer afraid
so I approached her
and I asked her
what she had come to say
and she told me
I had gifts to give to you
and I asked what gifts.

She told me
I had stories to tell you
stories that had to be
written down
nurtured
kept safe
but I could no keep them forever
I had to give them away
I have no more stories
because you didn’t listen
when I called.

I moaned that all hope was lost
that there were no more stories
but she told me then
I can’t have those stories
they belong to someone else now
but if I came to her
every day
and just listened
she might have more to tell
and so I always came to her when
she appeared to me at night.