Soliloquy of a Grand Tree

An exhausted traveller takes to my shade,
He shuts his eyelids and sleeps soundly.
He dreams and dreams.
Absolute quietness falls over the world
And darkness shrouds the Earth.
* * * *
A rosy thread emanates from the east
The birds take to my branches and sing
The leaves dance under the gentle breeze,
The fragrance intermingles with the music,
A refreshed face slowly opens its eyes
Like an egg hatching
Happiness sparkles in his half-opened eyes
The smile spreads its wings and rests on his lips.
When the leaves dry up on my branches
And all my umbrageous shade leaves for ever.
The wood-cutters whirl their axes at my trunk
But I might become a bench in a garden cradling lovers,
Or a window through which the rays of sunrise seep,
Or my wood might be coverted into paper
On which would be written love poems or letters of longing,
Or I might be cut into wood for the fire place
And radiate warmth copiously
And feel that even at the moment of my extinction
I could still be creative!
Cardiff, 1986