Rowan by Michele Waering

Do not bury witches beneath me
my roots are neither iron nor water

Rather watch for my seedlings
set them in a circle around you

Let my blossoms bring hope to you
unfurling after uncertain winters

Come late summer orange berries
precise blackbirds forage delicate-beaked
starlings slop-scatter
magpies hammer into my arms

Do not curse beneath my branches
deep green or sparse

Never as old as the erne
older than runes and rune-makers
berries brighter than Celts’ hair

Watch with me as seasons change become strange
Do not curse beneath my branches