The Oldest Tree in Mercombe Wood

beech tree

Beech tree, you are an elephant,
your crumpled bark as grey as power,
glistening and irresistible
in the small violence of a shower.
Foul water lines your long toes. Our
brief bustle will not see you through.
You are the year. We are the hour.
Green in my death, I fear for you.

Alison Brackenbury

To be published in her new collection, ‘Thorpeness’,
by Carcanet in February 2022.

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Alison Brackenbury would be pleased to hear them.