Monument

Grizzled, it lives on the windy mount,

Pointing to the sky, with twisted

And knarly trunk and joints -

Silent to all passers-by.



It breathes a sigh as the winds sweep

Through its sparse and tangled

Limbs, its body swaying

Rhythmically with each gust.



Born when time stood still,

Nourished and mothered

By the snow-swept peak,

Its roots cling to rugged crags.



It speaks neither ill nor good

But remembers all that passed

Throughout history near its

Small space on the windy mount.



Vince Hicks