GRANNY CELANDINE

Granny Celandine in myth
Was forever old,
Or so her grandchildren
Were always told.
So the legend carried
Spoon-to-spoon-fed
Of an entire life lived
At a quarter to dead.
Celandine's vocation
Began at crone,
Wizened and wise one
We called our own.
Her childhood, her youth,
Her middle-aged fiction
To our eager hearing
Of her detailed diction
On earlier stages
Of her pronounced longevity
Appealing to our own
Inconsequential brevity
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

We absorbed all evidence
Of descendancy designated
In our very own lives
Where her lifeline resonated.
We back tracked in time
To stand in her shoes
Imagining ourselves
Where Time's lines lose
The straight and narrow
Of distinct definitions
To warp and blur
Between generations.
Her eyes could twinkle,
Her frown could scold,
Her timidity was defiant,
Her indignation bold.
Granny Celandine had withdrawn
From a society she despised
To shelter where her values
Were not compromised
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

Granny Celandine was a stranger
To pompous vanity,
Abhorring its concept
She considered it audacity
A blasphemous waste
Of human potential
Where arrogance usurps
The plainly essential
In a world misaligned
And unable to atone
She would neither collaborate
Nor condone
Actions in the name
Of advancement and prosperity
For the sake of too few
At a cost to too many.
She could not abide
Nature's decline
To industrial aspirations
Considered divine
Above the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

Imbalance surrounded
Granny Celandine's haven
Where her garden grew
By a lore engraven
In Gaia's own stone
Of sustainable commandments
Preaching an adherence
To nature's investments.
Keeping fish in the sea
And nutrients in the soil
Should be part and parcel
Of mankind's toil.
But vain impatience
And ham-fisted greed
Had prompted Mother Nature's
Need to recede
Where Granny Celandine joined her
In abject disgust
Warranting support
And a shared distrust
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

While commerce raged
With excitable force,
Granny Celandine cherished
Mother Nature's source
By building a temple,
Her honour to esteem,
In the old oak's hollow,
Her worship to redeem
And here begins
An extraordinary tale
Of wondrous events
With which to regale
The reader of
A specific bent
Who is able to sense
The magnificent event
Of Earth's own magnetism
In one concentrated well
Rising from the ley line
Crossing hill and dell
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

Granny Celandine's oak
Hand magical properties
Offering dreams and insights
To seekers of prophecies
Carefully chosen
By select degree
To enter her garden
And visit the tree.
The credentials of the few
Allowed through the gate
Were great in spirit
And connected by fate
To amass reinforcements
Of compassion and care
To combat economies
Of global despair.
And when Celandine's life
Was finally to cease,
Her name and position
Were passed to her niece
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

Granny Celandine's mission
Is amply fulfilled,
Now timeless in legend
And mythology instilled
In the repertoire
Of ordinary folk
Whose lives will be healed
Via the voice of the oak
Softly spoken
Into appropriate ears
Of leaders in rebellion
Over the years
Until such time
As the power-craze shifts
From the stealers of souls
To the bearers of gifts,
From the vantage of greed
And the viewpoint of gluttony
To a judicious presiding
Over a common harmony
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

The Great Granny Celandine,
Chelidonium majus,
Was once a reclusive
Yet ultimately famous
For her dowdy dress
And frugal ways
At odds with the wealth
That shone from her gaze,
Wide and bright
With an impish grin
Enjoying an irony
She kept within
While modernity ran riot
Towards its own fall
Beyond the sanctuary
Of her dry-stone wall
Surrounding the garden
Handed down her line
To Granny after Granny
After Granny Celandine
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.

Old crone Celandine's
Guardianship of the oak
Was entrusted to her
For her ability to revoke
The corporate world
She came to despise
With a three quarter drop
Of the lids of her eyes
beneath which her savvy
Shone in slithers
Of inner knowing
That slowly withers
The Establishment's hold
Over you and me
As our gathering numbers
Flock to her tree
Where Green Man, Jack Frost
And pagan sprites recline
Beneath the steadfast protection
Of Granny Celandine
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over the marshes
And the meadows
To the old oak's hollow.