They Gather Again Beneath the Tree

author’s note:

Should I be protesting?

This poem is a protest.


THEY GATHER AGAIN BENEATH THE TREE

For many years
people gathered around
the ancient tree in the center of the town
at the end of every day
because
according to legend
the big tree would soon die
without that show of appreciation.

However, they performed no special ritual during that hour—
the townsfolk merely sat on benches
and conversed about their day—

using only gentle words of acceptance—
they believed they’d hurt the tree
by griping or growling or groaning.

But then after all the elders died
those who rose to take the yoke
did not want to waste their time
continuing some silly superstition.

Just look that tree!
they’d laugh.
Still strong—
though those old fogies are gone.

Yes, the legend was wrong—
the tree didn’t get strength from people—
people got strength from the tree.

Anyone who sat for a brief while
beneath its broad wings
received without knowing
an invisible mist of energy:
an infusion fortifying spirit and blood.
A gift of love.

A blessing lost
when people abandoned the tree
a blessing needed

as change began to spin
the whole town around
and dust devils dimmed
feeling and thought.

Even the simplest activity
became a struggle in that chaos.

Finally, some began to realize
they must stop amid the madness
and rest
and try to clear their heads.

And what better place
than beneath the ancient tree
in the center of town
and what better time
than at the end of each day.

But unlike those who’d come before
they did not soften their speech—no
that great tree now heard
a lot of griping
and growling
and groaning.

But the tree accepted the cacophony
with the wisdom of empathy
and continued to ease people’s wounds
with its secret blessing of love

just as it had in the past
when the townsfolk had tried to hide their pain
under gentle speech
while resting beneath
those strong broad wings.

Myth Steps: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton