A lone voice rattles

Echoing from stone to wood

Unheard and unstood

Nesting on the ledge

High above the woodland edge

Firstling falcons fledge

One more Blackthorn spray

Heralding the brighter days

The rain will not stay

Keep your hands busy

Let your mind wander freely

And things make themselves

Beauty for a day

May grace these slender branches

We all reach upwards

How many more times?

Is this still tenacity

Or stupidity?

Spritely sprigs spring spikes

Yet another year of thorns

I will overcome

Where am I going?

Should I take the long way round?

Will this ever end?

Beneath my hard surface

Roots reach for understanding

The sap is rising

Coiled up in my head

Thoughts twisting like tangled threads

Filling me with dread

Last year’s shooting growth

Combs the clouds with jagged teeth

On slender barrels

Fighting everyday

Nutrients and vitamins

Keep the bugs at bay

Stretching ever up

We will never reach the peak

Of these looming pines

Through the soil and mud

Through the spoil, toil, blood and flood

Leaves uncoil from buds

If you take time to

Build the bottom of the pile

The top is easy