The Cottonwood
By Mick Zerr ©2007
Yes, She saw it all,
This beautiful lady so tall,
From the feathered Red-skinned folk
To giant ox with a yoke.
My Mother, she was,
I say with a rustling pause.
Of many I was one who fell from above
To grow and share her love.
Travelers passing noted her charms
Often taking refuge in her open arms.
Borrowing her firewood on a cold winter morn
She gave it up to keep them warm.
And she saw it all.
Little did she ask,
But a drink from a flask
Rustling a wave goodbye.
With a morning tear in her eye,
Wagan Chan was her first name, the say
A native name depicting her restless way
As she watched them leave to never return
As others soon came, some to look, some to burn.
And she saw it all.
Mother grew up in times so bad
Water was scarce and often not had.
Of a family so large, she was the one
Who survived the longest under the sun.
Fires and critters made times tough
But she came through, looking rough.
Others lived under her protecting hands.
Some from far and distant lands.
And she saw it all.
Mother was old, when I first came
She protected me from wind and rain.
I grew up fairly close by
Always under her watchful eye..
Late in the summer, of her ending year
As if she knew her time was drawing near
She showered the land with silk so white
That little children all loved the sight.
And she saw it all.
The storm was strong, her death came fast
Lightning hit, the great Cottonwood fell at last
The ground shook and her friends drew tears
She lay dead, after two hundred years.
As she came to rest, all was quiet, and it made sense
For when a tree falls in the forest, there is a time of total silence
When even the birds show their respect and appreciation.
The creatures all came, some winged, some furred, like a great forest nation.
And I saw it all…..
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Sheila