The Tree Council
{Tolpuddle, 1832} Under the sycamore's shade our secret council gathered, whispers joining the breeze. We knew gentle blades would fly just as others spread and grew in the many places of the desperate. The canopy enough to hide our vows and our union, our shares of the plough. Six of us sat with promises, knowing that to bend was not to break in storms; knowing that the masters were experts with their axes; how easily resolve could be splintered. There was a future, but no fruit that we could reach and pick to feed our needy families. I spoke up, my brothers agreed, each plan was a wind to carry and plant those seeds. MIKE JENKINS Mike Jenkins lives in Merthyr Tydfil. He is editor of RED POETS magazine. His most recent collection of poems Shedding Paper Skin is published by Gwasg Carreg Gwalch. |