The ambivalent tree
It sits upon the left bank of the stream,
with roots deep spread in moist fertility,
and seasonally has its branches fruit.
The unattractive green and knuckled orbs,
hard-skinned and over-packed with chewy pips,
are eaten in the twilight by the mice
and badgers, otters, water rats and voles
that have their business by the water’s rim.
The tree is, mostly, by and large, content.
Except, the birds that arch the valley air
are invitations to the world beyond.
Not, of course, that it would ever leave,
(as if it could, the roots so deep and wide)
or want to leave, the habit of the stream.