Trees...you have no idea...

...you have no idea

what it's like for us

out here living under

our delusion of control

where we move about

arranging and rearranging

our lives

and our worlds

in such a way as

to please ourselves

and enhance our level of smugness

this much righteousness

is tiring after awhile

the endless effort of

asserting dominance

wearying to one who would

much rather wrap herself

around you and grow bark

sprout twigs don leaves

know what it's like

to not have to worry

about any of this

and on rainy nights

to know what it's like

to converse with things

that mostly just stand

about during the day

every day

their tops the only thing

moving their roots

living proof that all things

adapt and that sometimes

yes

they even speak


https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Lovejoy/e/B00JJ259DS

Trees...I can tell...

Trees


I can tell when you're having it rough
when your leaves hang limp with thirst
and your bark looks even more wizened
somehow and like me you long for rain
for that moldy smell that rises from
the earth when it first makes contact
and sends dust motes flying in all
directions


                                              and then
I can almost hear you drinking pulling
it all up desperate for your share and
when there isn't enough when the clouds
are stingy with their gifts the sun
merciless how somehow you share so
that there is enough to go around so
that not one of you falters or at least
not for long


                                              before the
sky gives up its goodness again when
it rains for days on end and what you
can't use the ponds and streams store
away in a spirit of collaboration not
seen at the upper levels of existence
in this place where we creatures of a
lesser sort persist in deeming ourselves
enlightened.


https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Lovejoy/e/B00JJ259DS

Trees...you have done it again...

Trees

you have done it again

amazed me with your resilience

enthralled me with your unrelenting

stoicism against the elements

and lived to tell of it

in your own way

with your stiff upper lips

and haughty postures making

even your ancient bent backs

works of art

you tell of this storm or that

of winds wild enough

to blow roofs off

and hats

turn parasols

wrong side out

much

to the dismay of those who

mistakenly persist

in defying you

fools not to see

how you survived

another winter scourge

how silly of them

not to hear your deep wisdoms

your sap coursing

your buds groaning

your words

that they mistake for

creakings and bark splittings

and rustlings as though

desiccated old

oak leaves had nothing

left to say


https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Lovejoy/e/B00JJ259DS

　

Trees....it has come to this...

Trees

it has come to this

long knowing that today

is all we have

for tomorrow will mark

the end

of your sojourn on this earth

of your towering over this place

of your watching

your waiting

for what you knew

would surely come

someday

and now it is that

someday

the day when I compose

a dirge that I will sing

silently

as pieces of you are

taken away

pieces of me

as year by year

falls away from you

from us

from your bark

your flesh

your boughs

your arms

your heartwood

your very soul

but you will hear

you will hear

and for you

for us

I will sing

silently

https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Lovejoy/e/B00JJ259DS

 

Trees...you have tales to tell...

Trees

you have tales to tell

histories locked in your rings

tight and unreachable

but by the sawyer's cut

when the years spill out

as so much sap

and secrets

years of strife

sadness strivings

uncertain ages

and misgivings

lamentations over losses

celebrations of victories

and ages of uncertainty

locked away

in your layers

of bark safe

until the first glint

of metal on flesh

your innards

show us time

compressed into narrow spaces

thin green skins

that knew sunlight

for only a year

before night fell forever

and we count them

run our fingers across them

and marvel that

you were there

when it all happened

and yet said not a word

but were

resigned waiting

for a hand

that bore a pen

or an axe






















https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Lovejoy/e/B00JJ259DS