To an Ancient Chestnut Tree, Older than France…

Close enough to hear

The young bells of Nantes:

Ste Croix, Donatien, Nicolas

An eternity of matins

An eternity of compline-

It misses monks

Whose quiet bones

Have fed it

Since a thousand years.


Down, sipping deeply

From the River Erdre-

Imperial roots clutch

Roman mosaics-

Tesserae it holds

And dreams.

Down, through

Achelean and Mousterian,

Down through the Ages of Man.


Up, up from the bones

Of the blue-faced men-

Here a seedling

Of Time itself,

Sibling of Charlemagne

Grown wide with eons;

The zephyrs

Of the centuries

Have small effect.


The Force of History

Here is shaped-

Time itself clutched

And spiraled upward,


Ancient Sage,

Force of Nature,

Force of-

Its Own Becoming.

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