What little feet down winding paths

What sanctuaries to explore,

Twisting sinews flowing through

Secrets of the sycamore

Old and new converge and play

In songs of leaves and sun,

These guilded memories flittering;

A dance that's just begun

Stoic bearded branches hum

Through lichens and moss,

Contemplations of time and ages

Are not considered loss

Feathers, fronds and filaments

In stages rise and fall,

Sweeping in and furling round

To accept the curtain call

What heights to reach a world above

What depths to know before,

Look within to see and find

The secrets of the sycamore

by Daisy MacDonald

16 pages

130mm x 170mm