Grandmother Yew

Evergreen, the dying yew
is reborn of her own death,
phoenix of the wood. Grandmother of trees,
this needle-ash is sweet and bitter by turn.
She is the shaft of the spear and the spring of the bow–
life or death depending on whose hand holds her.
Her berries, sweet as hazelnuts and as wise, hide
a bitter seed to bind those who take more than she would give.
Are you a bird to eat her poison? Take only what her hand offers, and live.

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One comment on “Grandmother Yew

  1. The Black Rose says:

    So much said, with so few words. You captured the yew in the only way possible–in your open hand.

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