The earth’s pull is held in their hanging
Unseen bonds join
Catkins to the earth.
The pull binds them to the damp soil.
The catkin and the ground
Two poles of the same.
And their swinging.
The nudge of the wind on one catkin
And then another.
The nudge and the swing
The catkin and the wind
Are one whole.
The swing is held in the pull.
The pull is constant
The swing is for a moment.
Pull is weight
The sway so light.
The body of the catkin
Is delicate to the touch.
My finger tip brushes it
A caress.
A thousand hanging tails
Swinging in the breeze
Caught in the pull of the earth.
And the brush of my touch.
And the curve of a bough
Of so many boughs
Arching out from the root
Reaching out over the fence.
Old, wet, moss laden, bark clad.
The curve is a dance with the pull of earth
The reach is a dance with the life of sun
The sway is a dance with the movement of air.
The curve, the reach, the sway
The silent dance of earth, sky and tree
Held in the space of this moment
Between the Hazel and I.
