The Ash Tree Celtic tree of now 18/2-17/3

The Ash grabs all the light
It can
Its pinnate leaves
Provide a plan
A dampish base
A lime rich soil
Whether Oak or Ash
It seems to boil
Down to Ash when the liming
Where Dogwood and Privet
And Spindle shows

In Spring, Wood Pigeons
Know a thing
Or two about the Ash
And bring
Their aura closer
And rodents too
Seemingly do take on the view

They reach for the sky
And do grow tall
Third moon of the Celtic
One and all
Ashbuds of March grow
Very black
Tennyson noted that
on track

The freshest leaves
Placed under pillows
See psychic dreams
And waving willows
Late to leaf
None before June
Any sign of frost
And the age old tune

Sees fluttering forms
The ground to bite
Seeker of spirit moon mother
The hanged man in Tarot
Hung from one
A greenish hue
In the morning sun

A good straight grain
The Druids wood
A perfect wand
And surely good
In spells its focus
Is strength and we
A mighty tree

Serpents will never
Ever be seen
In the shadow of Ash
However green
When the buds are green
They pickle well
But when black
They cast a different spell

Smooth pale grey bark
As age creeps on
Do become fissured
The smoothness gone
Within the tissue
Of its roots
Magickal mycorrizal

Lichens and mosses
Like to sweep
Enjoying the juices
And often creep
The barks and nestle
The goddess tree
The Sun and Neptune
Ever free

Standing erect
The crown will reach
It needs the light
The sun and each
Attracts the lightening
So woe be you
To shelter in storms
For it be true

Pigeons adore the
Goddess tree
Its really where they
Love to be
A very tough hard
Wearing wood
Tool handles
Snooker cue’s
Are good

Poles of witches
The besom too
An ash bark infusion
may loosen you
Its branches sweep backwards
And upwards at height
Always seeking
The precious light

Nuin meaning Heaven
A link they say
Between the gods and the humans
And the dead
A key to curing loneliness
Of the human spirit
Yes no less

a solar amulet fashioned out
Of Two ash twigs
Put it about
Overcomes the Winter blues
That lack of light
For the Ash bad news
The faeries appararently
Stay away
The tree of Tortu
A charm against drowning
Or so they say

The fruits thst resembles
Keys tis said
Have the power to unlock
The future led
But they only grow in the
Second year
So timing wise
It isnt clear

The healing of Ash
Is its watery ways
A strong moon nature
“The flooding phase”
March is the month
Of the budding of trees
And when herbs are freshest
When inward thought
And expression of self
Is often sought.

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