Grandmother Pine Talks on Lughnasadh

her new dress

Normally I don’t hear trees talking.
Really. Normally, I would
chalk it up to schizophrenia
or something but this tree?
She talks. She is bossy.
An attribute I have a sincere
appreciation for. I heard her say,
well not so much say…
but I know what she told me. This:

Make me a dress.
I am here,
my boughs protective spread
over your home.
You can’t even look me in my belly
button, shorty. That deer skull down there,
Yes, the eight pointer, tie it to my
trunk, facing North. Then make me a dress,
something pretty, a bright color, something
that dances with the wind.
The wind, you see, loves me, fondles
my supple trunk, my high and wide sprung
branches, my tender twigs way. up. there.

Thor ignores me, even though I’m the tallest
in the neighborhood. Tornadoes forego
the pleasure of my company
for those chubby pecans over there.
I am here.
I am here.
I am here.
Make me a dress.

So I did what she told me to do.

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About Blue Eagle Dreamer

Shamanic High Priestess and facilitator of empowerment and healing circles for girls and women, including a monthly Red Tent Temple. BA in English, minor in anthropology. Waldorf homeschool mom. Reiki master, cranial sacral therapist, herbalist, menstruvist, feminist, epicurian.
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