Roble Madre, Bellota Hija by Burl Battersby

From: An Ode to the Trees of Tacoma

Roots against the cosmic churn
Forming here a hallowed ground
Tethered to tierra’s perpetual turn
Roble Madre’s essence is firmly bound

Stalwart in both the rain and gales
She sips deep from a sunken river
In between each sweet taste she tells
Her tales to those who’ll outlive her

For many years she has been
Watching the forest’s slow demise
Some trees cut by ax, some by wind
Some succumbing to disease

So she cast her hija to descend
Asking gentle mercy from papa squirrel
Scattering them to the cold north wind
Where her pico bellotas are in peril

With profundity she decides
To cover them with her fallen leaves
Facing the winter bare she provides
Warmth and safety to them as she grieves

From a profound and majestic grief
Comes her deep expression of love
Sheltering hijas if ever so brief
She gives blessings to them from above