Bring me a pathway
to a
wishing tree,
wind it and whisper it through
autumn leaves, walk it beneath me, a teasing
soul thief, to gather today’s acorns
of dreams.
Bring you a sandstone, from a
beechnut ground, chestnuts and tender looks
litter and crowd, remnants of a river-beach and
sand-built hearts, lie with pretty pennies
in a mud-stained palm;
all are the colours
of the garden’s
pumpkin yarn,
and all are mine,
all beautiful mine.
Bring us a moment in passing time
to plant our wishes
side by side, to push them deep
into bark that weeps, for joy of every sigh…
Give them roots, caressing vines take hold,
arms to entwine with soft tinges of gold, that fall
like confetti
with each breeze that blows, and the rain murmurs all
that we know:
here, one autumn, on a wishing tree,
a summer’s future was told.
Written at Bolton Abbey - 27.10.13 :)
