Tree’s language

Did you know,
That poetry was the first writing.
Written down on bits of bark,
The lines were short
And of different lengths
According to the skin of tree
It was written on, see.
Charcoal on the sheddings
Of mysterious ancient beings
Whom seemingly stood still,
Yet tapped the earth’s resources,
Root listening for pulse and chime,
Learning the deepest secrets
That Gaia told.
So when writing the poem
The thought was with
The giver of both pen
And paper
And the human writer was no more
Than the medium to the tree’s
Prescribed directions
In this recorded speech
Of sound-sense finding meaning.