Google+ Followers

Thursday, August 31, 2017's as if you all pulled up stakes...

Trees...'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
bare now
empty of you
of your lush
majestic and sage
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
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...


...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...

...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
...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...