Trees seven

on the isles of Celtic seas the seven sacred trees

oddly the alder with damp feet
catkins sweet to stirring bees
short marsh trees that do all
but bleed when met with blade
their white wood red betrayed
for Bran's robes they don
as purple crows royal as swan
in fair-maiden kin the birch's twin

apple fruits long the pursuits
of fae and men and serpent sin
to bear the soul to lead the way
to mark lover's grave on rainy day
and feed for full a month or more
yet crave for the fairy adore
in older tongue twas uball or afal
save one in the tree for the man of apple

better you than me to bless the
yew tree and guess what we'll see
in midnight roads croaking of toads
and stools neigh sleep, the roots do creep
of immortal arms and limbs to
measure mortal men's masks or whims

of a divination clash, a Wednesday
for the ash too sacred to slash
with axe's blade dared not to swing
with thorn and oak it was triad king
and two of a kind be the berried to find
then fend off the fae with flowers of May
yet seed pods have found keys to fairy mound

hazel as alder and elder you'll see
not a mighty towering tree, yet it may be
the tree of life and nut of the wise
all be this in a dwarf shrubbery guise
to divine water forked hazels will totter
too, sacred to the poet, aye don't I know it

thus the elder as well, no great height to tell
but many times rich it be the form of a witch
and laden with sweet blooms and berries
if growing alone more than likely the fairies'

the last tree to invoke of course is the oak
a mighty spoke in the turning wheel of life
its flowers helped create a warrior's wife
Daron's devotees under oaks aimed to please
and mistletoe and two white bulls were slain
in its presence for fertile ground and rain
the fairy folks love old oaks, ash and thorn the three

on the isles of Celtic seas the seven sacred trees