The Ash

This very descriptive poem was written by Roy Smith …

The Ash

What regal majesty he stands so tall and straight,
A king of trees this ash I know from younger days,
Whose mighty statue there upon the brow,
To all the seasons fair or foul he stands and shakes his head.
I’m made for this I’m born to break the the mist at dawn,
I’m made for strength to bare the seed,
To propagate and spread my kind, and trust
That one small mite may find a patch of earth to grow

We often used the track and played beside and round his girth,
Year in, year out, we’d pass beneath his overwhelming reach,
It is as if he stands forever in our short brief span.
Such majesty on such a hill, to survey all around,
He overlooks the other scrubby fellows of the dell,
Perhaps his roots were planted well before their time,
From some other force that lent a hand and found this place
And put him there to overlook and rule.

What nourishes this giant on top of this high seat?
The clay it seems on which he rests and feeds
Has had a million years to stew and bake,
Is surely worthy of a king of trees to live and grow,
And proves it by his size no better throne exist.
He spreads his branches well to claim this earthly spot,
His roots to take possession of the ground beneath,
To fail to grasp, would bring his power and kingdom to a stop.