Five Elements by Anna Kingston

 

Lightning strikes the maidenhair tree

Sizzling electricity arcs

To dried out branches, now fully ablaze,

Falling to earth in a pile of sparks.

 

The smouldering embers deep in the forest

Sink beneath the earth’s floor.

They flow like a river seeking its source,

Bathing the rocks and releasing the ore.

 

The ore is now found, it is worked, it is wrought

By hands of men tilling the earth.

The metal is forged and formed and bent -

A cup, a jug, man knows its worth.

 

A maidenhair sapling grows alone, by the house

All tidy and trimmed, but dying of thirst.

A girl brings a jug made of ore from the ash.

She’s thirsty as well, but the tree must come first.

 

The tree’s now much taller, no longer alone,

The forest’s not silent, sounds rending the air.

Men still do their digging, they burn, and they drill,

But they’re also, finally, learning to share.

 

The elements weave an ancient design,

Together, apart, rebirth, and then death.

Nothing is new, yet everything is,

Time standing still, then taking a breath.

 

 

© Anna M. Kingston 2023