<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div class="">Our Fire Circle Tree</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><i style="font-size: 14px;" class="">Every Wednesday in Sebastopol, California, a small group </i></div><div class=""><i style="font-size: 14px;" class="">of men meet around an outdoor fire at the foot of an old Gravenstein apple tree</i></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">We are witnessed and inspired by this age-old tree</div><div class="">some branches lost to storm or time</div><div class="">some covered with cankers and galls
a trunk hollowed to a twisted shell </div><div class="">by fire and little creatures
yet still claiming its sacred ground</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">And upon the rising of the sun season</div><div class="">
its blood stirs
</div><div class="">buds burst into exquisite white blossoms
</div><div class="">and it emerges as a bride</div><div class="">
ready to renew her vows to life once again</div><div class="">
when the bees grant their blessing
</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Then upon the rising of the moon season</div><div class="">
it settles into awe and gratitude
</div><div class="">knowing that its union, unlike the salmon’s,
</div><div class="">will not claim its life
</div><div class="">and silently revels in the dreams
</div><div class="">of what is yet to come</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Jean-Pierre Swennen</div></div></body></html>