In the earthy space
where he and his crown have fallen
lies a sacred place
of rain-brushed roots,
rough, rocky undersoil,
soft green moss and
a small dry hollow in which
one might curl up
wait out the storm
dream of that first root
extended deep into the
damp and loamy sod
its acorn nut split
wide open, screaming
cap askew, laboring
before a symphony release
of tendrils here and there
here and there
excuse me please
this place where it all began
I touch the underside
stroke my hand across time
one hundred
two hundred
his rings indecipherable
how many years
and storms
and creatures like me
tucked in for solace
and safekeeping
can you leave me here please
and leave me be
to watch the dark clouds
gather and pass?
Poem & Photo ©2024 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.