Twin Oaks Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Twin oaks are leaning over the loch
Murmuring of this and that
Click-whump clickle-whump they complain

The fork of one is harbouring tiny ferns
Like maidenhair, an emerald blush of fronds

The other carries acorns in his lap,
A squirrel’s treasure chest

Wind lifts their leaves in unison
A tribal creak, restless as the eaves
Of a moving vardo

Their roots tap into the blood
Of a little traveller

At night they dream of leaving their grassy berth
Of rising like the humming flies of the loch
Of dancing over the waves beneath the moon