Song Of The Roots (live)

This tree sends roots

Into the part of the underground

Where the vast endless songs

Of the dead are sung.

Energy of ashes scattered

In the wind on sea and earth, gather

With the low hum, oscillating

From corpse to worm

And into the microbes

And into the network

Of bony wooden cables

Carrying the buried microphones

Of lost voices, vibrating through

The earth, as whale songs cross seas,

Sweeping across rootlets,

Like a wind across chimes,

Ringing underneath the trunk’s pithy bark

All the way up into the leaves

And out through the throats of singing birds.

This tree, with its branches

High into the heavens,

Fingering clouds that

Rub the angels’ ears,

Sways like a gospel singer

And rocks the tiny sparrow,

Warm, in the leaves of her tree top nest,

Listening to the song of the roots.