The time of ancient trees
On the Island of ancient trees
A spring day entered the world
In the profusion of sunshine
It supplied fresh green
To the gray-green bark of life.
With dashes but not final dots
It engraved grotesque compositions
Faces silently tired
Furrowed by wind
Washed by rain.
The intrusive time reminded me of
Their similarity to human faces
How many times did a gale enter this forest
Lashing with storms
the ancient polyheaded oaks.
Did it take away the breath of beech trees
Uproot the weak ones, break the boughs?
In this forest something has lasted
The intrusive time reminded me
That in our world it’s been all alike.
© 2016 Barbara Kobos Kaminska All Rights Reserved