Saturday, October 17, 2020



 

 


 

 Tree


...I saw you fall

fulfilling my prophecy

making me wish

I’d never written the words.

Piece by piece

leaf by leaf

they dismembered you

sliced your past from you

letting it fall

to the ground

where apart

it meant nothing

and meant everything.

The birds you’d sheltered

took flight

at the first cut

while others dared

to light upon

what was left of you

before it was too late.

Now there is

nothing

where you were

but the dust

from which you sprang

a century ago

no words to tell of you

but mine.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Tree...why am I only now seeing you...



Tree...
 
...why am I only now seeing you
when it's clear you've been there for some time
defying your official taxonomy as a 
sprawling shrub? 

You are hardly that but a proud, though spindly,
specimen, deep green needles crimson arils strong
stiff bole sporting branchlets just bursting to be seen.

Taxus canadensis, you emerged here
beneath the taller trees when no one was looking
(no one usually is), hid in their shadows
making no fuss until the day the light found you and
I saw you leaning there
waiting to be noticed. 

And once again there was no one to share this with 
no one else who cares about yew trees
and how one might come to be here
nestled into this cluttered wood just another 
ground-hugging miracle...



...

Monday, September 23, 2019

Trees...soon soon now...



Trees...

...soon soon now the sun

will turn its face southward

leaving you to choose the

colors on your palette...

 

...for months it decided

for months its only choice was green

with all its permutations nuances

soft shadows bright edges

dazzling emerald gentle chartreuse...

 

...but soon soon now you will decide

how much of its fire to take on

how many hues your leaves will sport

before the light wanes...

 

...before their journey their graceful exodus

to those waiting below

with tales to tell of

their own brief roles as facets

in the gem we call autumn...


Thursday, August 31, 2017

Trees...it's as if you all pulled up stakes...


Trees...





....it's as if you all pulled up stakes
and followed me here
always knowing where to find me
where you
or your kin
continue to assure me
that my days will never
lack you
that my love for you
has not gone unnoticed.
 
Still now after all this time
after seeing your now abandoned
spots the vast swaths of ground
where you once stood
desecrated
bare now
empty of you
of your lush
majestic and sage
presences.
 
But then I slip out of bed
and there you are outside my window
beckoning like some playful friend
eager to commiserate here
of all places
where to others
to those who think
that fewer of you would be
preferable
just something
to be taken down
that more light is better
and that some of you
lean just a little too far
for comfort.
 
Your topmost leaves
tremble in the late-summer breeze
fill the large gap
that my leaving you
not once but twice
created but how silly of me
to fret for even just a moment
that you aren't capable of this
of healing this wound
of once again
filling my days.
 
 



Thursday, March 23, 2017

Trees...I heard you last night...



Trees...






...I heard you last night sighing
long and mournfully your tops
swaying in the wind gusts
tapping each other at times
making snapping cracking sounds
as your newly young spring-stiff limbs
touched met and none of you
the worse for it.
 
I heard you through my window
open always despite the cold
and wondered again what it was
you were sighing about or do I
even need to ask when at dawn or
nearly so I creep from my bed again
toward a light that flashes as faces
and arbitrary dictums in
my still-dark early-morning living room
that hasn't seen the light of day yet.
 
The faces don't care what time it is
there is no curtain dropping nor anthem
playing to a snowy screen at 11 p.m. anymore
hasn't been for a very long time now so
things come at us always from all sides no end to it
lives shattered and worlds tilted in
the wee hours no regard for the rest we need
respite from a horror not possible
back there among you.
 
So when I've taken all I can I crawl back
weary to my bed pull the curtain aside
to see your tops still swaying hear
your entish sighs unceasing you
who make sense who stand resigned who
render the word ugly irrelevant because
it simply does not exist in your world
as it does in mine or perhaps as mere
shadows that you dismiss summarily
at dawn.




Friday, February 3, 2017

Trees...what are you making of us...




Trees...
 
...what are you making of us
who bask beneath you
at more serendipitous
carefree times
enjoy the shade you provide
your riotous spring
summer and fall colors
that mesmerize us leave us
breathless wordless...
 
...are you shaking your great heads
in consternation puzzling
at our inability to grasp certain truths
at our confusion if only we might
content ourselves to stand patient
as pines stoic as oaks
demure as maples
pliable as birches...
 
...there is something to be said
for standing still allowing things
to take their natural courses without
our needing to move a single branch
or twig that time and the world
know enough to resolve them
with none of us the worse for wear
like so many of you who bounce back
joyously each year from winter's
assault...
 
...rather we grasp and claw
struggle toward what we already know
to be so
but refuse to take in through
our own bark fearful
always that we'll lose our way
stray become lost if only we knew
that all we need do is stand still
and wait it out like trees...
 
like you...






Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Trees...within a shell...


Trees





within a shell as weary and wizened as yours

as streaked with the rain's tears

split by the coming and going of

summer and winter

gouged by the ravages of insect

and illness

my heartwood expands

each ring a story

each layer a weight

that roots me more firmly

to this spot

 

no longer bearing fruit

but rather tidings

admonishments

which is what old things do

I stand much as you

biding what time is left me

fade into a landscape

of new things new dreams

and whatever else

a new generation reaches for

 

that has nothing to do with stars

or sunlight or moons

etched with the shadows of branches

and leaves that burst forth in spring

singing a green song

a song without words

that I play

over and over again

even in sleep