Long, long ago when the forest was new,

An acorn and a seed dropped from above.

Side by side two young seedlings grew,

From seedling friendship bloomed sapling love.

For twenty years their love grew, as did they,

Together in the breezes their branches did sway,

A golden linden and a young strong oak,

Their joy brought happiness to the forest folk.

Now in these days at the age of twenty-one,

Trees could walk the forest for adventure and fun,

'Til the time of their rooting at thirty-one,

When, where they were, became home 'til time was done.

Now Misha the Oak walked close to his sprouting home,

But Anna the Linden wandered further each time she'd roam,

One spring morning he watched, into the distance her gold blooms glistened,

As evening fell, for her rootsteps he listened.

When the new day broke he looked all around,

He searched the wood a far as he dare,

But his beloved Anna was nowhere to be found,

At home he cried, her sprouting home was bare.

Hours turned to days and days to a week,

Each week past with Misha crying for the love he did seek,

Weeks turned to years 'til his walking was done,

Rooting time came, he was thirty-one.

His roots sank fast and deep,

That night the forest didn't sleep,

Over and over a heavy voice cried,

Anna, Anna, but no voice replied.

Years turned to ages, he grew tall, his branches strong,

But his heartwood for Anna continued to long,

When the linden scent drifted on the springtime breeze,

Memories renewed of his most beloved of trees.

Years went by, time took its toll,

Branches broke off leaving a hole or a bole.

He became home and friend to the forest folk.

Less and less of Anna he spoke.

As young creatures grew, his branches they'd roam,

At night his long strong hands gently returned them home,

When they grew older, cupping them in his loving hands,

He'd tell them the age old stories about the land.

One day two swallows chose a hole just below his chin,

A narrow place, just open enough for them to get in,

Soon they had a down lined nest carefully made,

In which three little eggs were gently laid.

In a short while three hatchlings cried to be fed,

Mom, dad and Misha were glad when they went to bed,

It wasn't long 'til they moved with a peep and lurch,

When fuzz grew to feathers on Misha's nose they would perch.

Misha told them tales of the ages through which he grew,

One day, he watched two swallows, now of age, away they flew,

One remained wanting to learn more,

Of things only Misha could tell of the days of yore.

Strange friends they became, a wee young bird and an age old tree,

Now Bert was her name and was as curious as could be,

She asked of his young treehood, when the forest was new,

Memories he shared, thought forgotten as he grew.

To one tale of lost love the young bird did cling,

And off one morning she took to wing,

He watched as into the distance her young wings soared,

A long forgotten memory, the pain of loss again roared.

Hours turned to days, days to weeks, his heartwood began to rend,

To much to lose, a one time love and a new found friend,

It hurt so bad he thought he would die,

Then on the wind he heard a familiar cry.

He held up his hand and there Bert landed in a short while,

His old bark ed into a full faced smile,

Little friend, what is that you have in your beak?

Old friend, it's a gift from someone you seek.

I found Anna the Linden in the forest far away,

When she left she got lost, couldn't find her way,

You've been her heart all these years,

She too, has shed to many tears.

His smile grew wider, eyes filled with sap,

Flooded with such joy he thought his heartwood would snap,

My Anna, my Anna, she's been found!

Echoed from the mountains with a loud resound.

He raised his eyes up to the sky,

"O Master of the Wood, please free her roots," he did cry.

An answer came, "you remained loving and kind through terrible loss,

Her roots will be freed until the forest she does cross."

"Little friend will you bring her home to me?"

She replied, "it won't be long just wait and see."

Hours grew to days and days to a week,

Each week passed with Misha rejoicing for the love he did seek.

One morning a forgotten scent, on breeze, came his way,

His branches creaked and began to sway,

Soon little Bert on his hand did perch,

His heartwood from his trunk, he thought, would lurch.

Across the meadow, a short distance away,

A golden glow slowly moved his way,

She was finally home and in full bloom,

Her beauty before him soon did loom.

Love was restored because the Master did intervene,

His wondrous love returned that which was lost,

Such joyous reunion has never been seen,

Branches tangled in tree hugs, many leaves were tossed.

An acorn and a seed dropped from their love,

In a nest, and egg laid, just above,

A new generation of love to abound,

From a mighty Oak, a Swallow and The Lost Linden, now found!

by D R Hartle