I saw my shadowed head against the tree
In the dark night, by kitchen light backlit
As I stood smoking on the balcony
A magnified dark head that seemed to sit
Among the leaves and branches. I moved it
From side to side to check that it was mine
But it wasn’t mine; more like the spirit
Of the tree, revealed by the magic shine
Of a long life bulb; transported in time
Back to some pagan Bronze Age century
A god reborn, its one leg and arms knit
Into a sentient being, tall and fine
Green and brown sentinel, security
Watching over this patch I inhabit
Tree-mendous, Wendilea!
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