Ent Leaflet Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Three hundred ten from acorn cup my trunk, once slender, up and up
advanced to tickle sun and moon. I versify. Life's afternoon
slips into eventide to sup beside the golden buttercup,
among the joyous saplings strewn, no longer hidden, bounty, boon.

From sunrise smile with dewdrop pearls whose tears deck leaves as each uncurls,
from breath by photosynthesis to death without a goodbye kiss,
from sapling which warm zephyr twirls to gnarled old oak wood with outgrowth burls,
on how oaks live, on that and this, deep roots reflect before abyss
Recycling, swallows branch and twig. I realize life's whirligig
spins rings concentric marking time to final season's reasoned climb,
from shoot to trunk and branches big where grunting pigs for truffles dig,
plays panorama pantomime from small to tall productive prime.
To Oak draft welcome! drink deep swig as Pierian Spring sublime.

Twigs twigged, above wild piglets' squeals, that Mother Nature both conceals,
reveals, intents, experiments, adapts to change - from range ice-capped
to ocean trough, from even keels to forms lopsided, soft or steels,
both flora, fauna heaven sent, confined towater, scaly wrapped.
from blue whales' microscopic meals to dinosaur.Cards Nature deals
play out life's game as sap is tapped, blood lapped or fungus spores are zapped
into the atmosphere.Life peels, through evolution, borrows, steals,
invents new species still unmapped, mocks Man with telomeres time trapped.

Although deep rooted, tree to tree transmits, receives, all share lore we
from long lost Ents once learned before our quintessential none ignore
fixed time and place as by decree we walked no longer.By degree
our waiting, shepherd like, restore to earth a balance more and more
contested by Man's needless squander from here unto the wild blue yonder.

None urban grey smog clogs dismiss as harmless. Men must reminisce:
as chickens home to roost will wander humanity - no time to ponder -
earthshaking tipping point most miss: adieu all joy, adieu stalled bliss.
Yet conditions feel far fonder than when P-T E fell amiss.

Three hundred years and ten I oak through summer sunshine, winter cloak
bore witness to spun seasons' change, to human intercourse, exchange,
from hoarfrost leaflessness to soak when purple, yellow, crocus poke
amid dawn's dew while worming range both early bird, blurred shadows strange.

'Mid shadows numberless' my shade spread out mid verdant gladding glade,
where hollyhock and lupin rise to draw light's glory from bright skies.
May life for men spread unafraid and unpolluted, story laid
to greet with open-eyed surprise life's weather in whatever guise.

Three hundred years and ten tall tree extended branching canopy,
as underground discreetly thread strong roots beneath man's heedless tread
pride spreading while cry babes, born free, from striplings sped to cemetery,
leafed out drab destinies, which, read, showed no true purpose, tail nor head.

Man's generations come and go, ignoring seasons' reasoned flow,
would all control to leave mar mark or heartless heart on rugged bark.
But patient bark will overflow this rapid race whose trace may know
no glory when their story stark is told by ants in days now dark.

This generation climate change prepares - for tree 'tis passing strange
to sense through signals in the air ice melting round the polar bear.
This threatens tree: odd insects range from south to north, thus rearrange
established patterns everywhere, - some species sink, jinx can't repair.

Three hundred years and ten would see woodpeckers knock, - fragility
despite umbrella overhead, beside the shallow riverbed.
There beech and birch accompany pine saplings b[l]eached by destiny.
There willow waves her streaming head, there thoughts foregather, nothing dread.

Three hundred years and ten: few things today seem stable, stay Time's stings,
like Cupid's dart, swift disarrange the plans of mice and men, while mange
rots fur once fine, wine tart turns, strings of cause, effect, converge, which brings
cusp watershed - yet still life streams bark, branches, raft, recrafting dreams.

Here see sharp brambles' carefree play, here too wild roses mild display,
their petal banners white and pink recorded now inink.
Here too find peace and balmy breeze which laughs at man's fatuities,
while honey bees buzz through and link natural cycles as trees think.

Three hundred years and ten wear rings record life's word, clima[c]tic swings
from summers Indian and drought to winters harsh and frozen out.
Yet "permanence" like many things, is only relative - Time's wings
ambitions and conventions flout, wage war on s[t]age, deception, doubt.

See tempest late tonight sets free first lightning, thunder next, then wee
drops which to torrents turn that feed spry springs upstream, flood fearful seed.
Tsunami tidal threatens tree - none circumvent eternity -
dread downfall tree must face indeed, trace out life's destiny, concede.

Tale fails, drawn doggedly to logged end, with naught to strive for, naught defend,
as neutral witness rings record much breezes touched on, bed and board.
Leaves drift from branches, Time's winds send three centuries of bough and bend
until b[l]urred final bow cuts cord, forks die a log on sunset sward.