Weeping Ash (Fraxinus excelsior) Photo By Jean-Pol GRANDMONT – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12225193
Dear Readers, I’m still feeling a bit raw after the death of my friend, but when I found this poem I knew I needed to share it. Reader Sandra Gibson originally made me aware of it back in 2021, when I put out a call for people’s favourite autumn poems, and I loved it then. My friend loved Ash trees, and was very concerned about ash dieback, and all the other threats to our trees. I love the last two lines. See what you think.
Weeping Ash by Ann Pilling 2020
It died quietly in the night. If there were death throes
the gale swallowed them; and it fell with care
sideways on to a holly tree which soon bounced back,
we can see the hills now and we have more light.
I will miss all of it, its witchy branches, its long hair,
its stubborn refusal to leaf until spring
had all but passed into summer. Only then
did its long black fingernails unfurl to green.
The logs, stacked up in chequered rows against a wall,
will last several winters. Ash burns well.
In the dark months we can pull up close,
warm our hands at its flame
as those we have loved warm
us when we remember them.