by Michael Groetsch

She lies beneath her Banyan tree,
Branches all around,
She doesn’t have to say a word,
Her scent gives off a sound.

She lies beneath her Banyan tree,
Roots deeply to her soul,
Each one feels her gentle warmth,
No longer are they cold.

She lies beneath her Banyan tree,
It knows why she is there,
The wasps didn’t show this day,
Much fruit still to bear.

The Banyan tree says to her,
Would you spend the hour,
You could help me  bear my fruit,
You could touch my flower.

She touched and touched and touched again,
Each flower in her sight,
She touched and touched and touched again,
Till day became the night.

She waits beneath her Bayan tree,
To see what fruit they share,
By summers end all were fed,
Sweet figs with some to spare.