WHITE SENTINEL
In ghostly costume the white birch,
sentinel in the tree circle,
marks Samhain, end of this year's cycle.
Backwise scanning of seeds past sown
many in haste, a few with consciousness,
those few still have a lustrous glow
like dew jewelling the spider's web;
they become treasures squirrelled away,
acorns of the majestic oak.
The hard won cache lies in ready
stored for the subsequent season
as the sentinel same white birch,
crone-endowed in the tree circle,
looks ahead, notes with certainty
the next cycle's sure advance.
Kaaren Whitney ©Samhain 2004
