Anderswood pines, New Forest

 A weight of years, 

time transformed, made tangible, 

given mass and substance from the air.

I wish I grew as you. 

I lack your stillness, 

am unable to accrete the years. 

I have only instability of memory, 

the semi-random recall 

based on ion channels in the brain.

But you have rings,

one inside the other, ever growing 

as the vagaries of season turn to grain.

And you have gravity,

I feel my course affected by your pull, 

I find a perturbation in my orbit. As I pass,  your presence draws me in.

How gladly I would fit my orbit here, 

among this constellation of the still and silent strong.

Let me be a wandering planet to these pines 

and in their presence find 

the peace I've craved so long.