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ANCIENTS

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the Pokermid
ANCIENTS

Ancients

Autumn is leaving, the outlook is cold.
Tree trunks are naked, there's nothing to hold
Branches are creaking and thirsting for rain
Buds are still hiding and waiting in vain.

The floor of the forest, unseen in an age
Is covered with leaves so deep you can't gauge
This autumnal gown degrades to the earth.
To fertilize ground and feed the rebirth.

The canopy crown, is up high above
The Giants below do cradle with love
Keeping them steady and holding them firm.
Feeding them moisture until it's their turn.

Shoots that are growing beneath this great shade.
Grapple for sunlight but gradually fade
Fighting for water with siblings and kin
The strongest are fat, the weakest grow thin.

Hundreds of seasons roll through the decades.
History beckons, Titanic parades
Stand at attention and reach for the stars
Cedars and beeches and silver poplars.

 

Pokermid