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