There is a tree covered in ribbons
Growing by the riverside.
Small buds wake to springtime
Early in the blue brightness.
Many strips of cloth wind round
The Greiving Tree.
I added my own yesterday
During a rest on the long road.
It was a comfort to see many
Memento-leaves gathered close.
Yesterday's sun rose glimmering
On fresh snow and footprints.
Foxes howled in the forest
And hares danced for longer days.
Today the mountains beckon
Speaking of silence and solitude.
True leaves have not yet grown
On the prayer-handed trees.
Ribbons colour the melting winter
Red and purple, blue and green.

The river runs deep.
Eyelets open as ice melts;
Blue irises edge clear water.
Her patience is thin -
Signs warn of narrow trails.
Upstream, the dam employs her
Six million kilowatt strength.
A steamship boiler
(Riveted, overbuilt steel)
Lies wrecked, a trophy
On display in snow-glitter.
Mankind must tread lightly.

Trapped in paper. Printed. Copied.
Repeated for generations to read,
though few will know the words.
Captured on a page. Do they cry?
Do matching tears fall from both
the reader and the read pages?

You sometimes think you want to disappear,
but all you really want is to be found.
I wasn’t wanting a specific answer.
What I wanted was to know.
Let me find you.

You have me on a string.
Like a leaf caught in a stream
You drag me along
You are my song
An aria I sing
You have me on a string.

I swear he’s an angel.
His wings bring him
down to Earth slowly.
They spread out,
reaching across the blue sky.
His white feathers create
the silver lining on the horizon.