The Mystic Yew

A Poem

Published in

Woodworkers of the World Unite!!!

Feb 8, 2021

This ancient yew speaks of history through sturdy limbs,

and listens with sympathetic bark.

It leans like an old man,

letting the curve of cool alabaster –

white cemetery stone –

bear its weight.

Graveyard owls linger beside berries red.

They seek answers under the moon.

And tree-dust,

that wise magic,

glistens on soft wings,

ready to fly.