Sacred Place

She says ley lines meet here

like Stonehenge.
Three hemlock trees that lean
towards each other
crookedly
are the anteroom
to the high place
she says.
I think
they grew that way after a storm
and no logger wanted them.
The high place
dowses masculine
She says.
This is where the men had ceremony.
Stunted trees and moss
are all that grows on this rocky ledge
but a six-foot stone wall lines one side
and below it is a feminine place
(she dowsed it)
where the women had ceremony.
There is a stone circle
she says.
Below us a spring has dried up
because of logging across the road.
The spirit of the spring
said so.
We walk downhill
and pass a huge pine with multiple stems.
A pine weevil killed its central leader
and the tree has sent up
replacements.
I think about its lonely struggle.
I would like to stop here
and contemplate
The treeness of things
but we don’t have time
she says.

— Elizabeth Caffrey