In 1998 my dear fiend Annie Ovenden asked me to write a poem to go with each of twelve paintings of a Beech Tree in Rilla Mill through the months of the year. This was the first:
January
The atoms in the soil which grew this tree,
Might once have been a Brontosaurus’ skin,
An early mammoth, horse, a chimpanzee,
Or men who dreamed of mining Cornish tin.
Some planets from a Universe must grow –
Whose life from stars is seeded in the seas;
Where our existence is the ebb and flow
Of trees to people and people to trees.
One day I shall be part of a forest
With Bluebells and moss for my family
For the atoms within me cannot rest
As long as the earth lacks a single tree.
And though you will not recognise me quite
Still, wrap your arms around, and hold me tight.