so hard for you to take me there
to imagine
though possibly I can’t
in this place of earthy damp
you still small sat next to the trunk
of an ancient tree
shadows pierced with sharp white
through the canopy
now so many trees are felled
I cannot guess the beauty that has been
so we talk of Binsey Poplars
I see the sign for the Pilgrim’s Way
this place so quiet now
as we alone search the path
we stand with those of a greater age
beside bare roots that run so long
along the forest floor
and think how you have grown