The Wizard Tree

Walking towards the possum bridge
The barrier protecting the fairy glen’s ridge.
Through the open maze of skinny trees
To a central opening where he stands.
Thick and tall, strong and proud
So different to the rest of his crowd.
Etched in my memory, forever
This King of the fairy glen
Standing there in the open.
How long has he been waiting?
His face passive in this rusty, textured bark
With his chin like two cherries
His nose lengthened with age
His eyes so different, one huge, one small.
How tall does he go? How far does he reach?
Follow his gaze past his staff, all twisted and curled
Across the creek and back into my world…