If I was married to a linden tree
I wouldn’t need a ring for full of those
her widening trunk would every yearly be!
I’d shelter in the leafy roof which grows.
Her branches round my waist would tightly fit;
while every type of bird would flit and sing
for me with scented blossoms albeit
soon cut for tea in cups of bark she’d bring.
Perhaps you’ll think I’ve lost my way in love
to harbour such desires. But can’t you see
to love a tree will help you reach above
and from the hold of humans make you free?
I think a tree’s the only one I’d wed —
the mystery kept alive by what’s unsaid.
© Alan Morrison, 2013