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 “An Ode To Mistletoe” 

Standing beneath hundred-year-old Elm 

My head rising in awe of such regal canopy, 

I glimpse her hidden in peaceful solitude, 

Dressed in dappling camouflage. 


Wild Mistletoe firmly rooted 

On the highest branch in prismed light 

Elm and Mistletoe connected by old love, 

Enduring more than memory holds. 


She survived that cold winter 

When two young lovers shot her down 

Easy prey with a bb gun 

Elm's branches bare in the frosty air. 

Tying ribbons to her stem to fill desire 

Dangling her white berries, lost food for Pilgrim birds. 

Simply decor for a gala where young love 

Is too shy to kiss on its own. 

She vows to climb higher into Elm's branches 

Where there is no judgment about her beauty or poison. 

She draws from Elm's willing nourishment. 

Happy to thrive among Paw Paws and Ironweed. 


Mistletoe, in spherical wisdom, calls to us from on high. 

Without ribbons or legends; to simply love. 

To live beyond others judging what is beauty or poison. 

To live in gratitude for friends like elm that accept us.


She sits in peace recalling times when woods 

Have been our refuge and lover. 

Times we fled to hallowed ground 

With a broken or fearful heart. 

We cling to woods no less desperately 

Than Mistletoe to Elm

We long to climb to safe branches 

Where secrets and dreams are held like wind. 

We, whose seeds were sown in the depths of the earth. 

Are made to love the woods.

We who were made by lovers who walked before. 

And planted desire in our earthly bodies. 


In the shadow of the arbor 

Woven by Elm and Mistletoe, 

With curious chipmunks as witnesses,

May we renew our vow to become wild lovers of woods.