The Berries on the Rowan

The berries on the rowan brightly glow Against the green in bunches on the tree. They'll feed the wandering birds in winter-time When snow is deep and sun its warmth resigns, Making these thieves, alert for fruit and seeds, Unwitting partners in the rowan's spread.

The berries on the rowan, thickly spread, Are never so inviting as their glow. In autumn, birds refuse them and their seeds Are left for months uneaten on the tree. When winter brings starvation, taste resigns And grosbeaks pounce on them at feeding time.

The berries on the rowan know no time.Passive themselves, on wings of birds they spreadWherever birds can fly. Their fruit consignsIts bitter sustenance when food is low;For this, whole flocks fly errands to the tree,Then find new ground on which to drop its seeds.

The berries on the rowan bear the seeds Of magic passed to us from olden time. Against all evil spirits is the tree On guard, but most of all its clustered spread Defeats dark elves. They never pass the glow Red rowans make, despite their dark designs.

The berries on the rowan are the signs Of faith the tree has in its fruit and seeds. The blood of life is red within their glow. The bread of life is in the fruit that time Will take into the maws of birds and spread To resurrect from it a seedling tree.

The berries on the rowan are the treeThat every fall its energy consignsTo crowning boughs with clusters thickly spreadOf thin and tasteless fruit and pellet seeds.This providence is somehow linked to timeAnd starving birds that glimpse a scarlet glow.

Each year when autumn colours glow, the treePuts forth its seeds and after that resignsTo time and chance the manner of their spread.