It’s early Summer

Dad is out the back again

Gardening in between cricket from the Ashes

If it’s not football, it’s the cricket

He’s digging a hole to plant a bush

Not digging where squirrels stash their Winter food

 

It’s now mid-Winter

Dad is out the back again

Squirrels feast on nuts and berries 

He’s digging a hole to bury ashes

They say we are created from nothing

Dust to dust

and that we go back to nothing

Ashes are not nothing

Dead things in this living world are never really dead

Ashes grow inside those the deceased leave behind

Mum planted her ashes inside me

Seeds that grow until they become tree

Trunk in my belly

Roots in my legs

 

It’s late Spring

Dad is out the back again

Tiny branches with leaves poke out through my ears

Branch out my mouth

A small bird has made its nest

Its unborn chicks are ready to hatch

Dad would plant me in the garden

if I didn’t look so peculiar

I am mobile tree

carrying Mum wherever I go