Gardener at Heart - Book One

The Encampment (Paper Birch In Spring)


The tribe has pitched their tipis here

Where grass is thick and water near,

And high above, the red-tails veer and circle down to mate.


The lodgepoles angle up so high,

They hug the ground, they kiss the sky,

And from their tips the streamers fly like birds across a field.


The tipi covers, neatly made

And winter-weathered, glow and fade

As sunrise light and sunset shade give shape to every trait.


In sudden wind the lodgepoles hum—

Right here both past and vision come

To welcome travellers to the drum till every one is healed.


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