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Sycamores, upstream from Arroyo Burro
updated: May 03, 2014, 3:00 PM

By JW Sand

Ghosts of sycamores, all in a row, blocking our view of the sky
In daytime you glow in blue mixed with green,
all through night you lurk silent and grey

The breeze is your lover on sun washed days
mixing your seeds, as sure as desire
How do you manage such lusty feats
With basking and growth as your only calling

Hawks and crows stage a battle for space
in your mountains of leafy green richness and light
Rocks at your feet hold you safe against floods in a world where water rules

Fall, you will. A certain ending. Each of your fathers have fallen or burned.
Sure as your leaves are traded each winter, your seeds will find homes and your trunk will surrender

Meanwhile, such service your presence brings
A well of warmth in damp valley evenings
Home to the spirits of hundreds of species.
Never still, always breathing



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