Did I mention that I seem to be writing lots of tree poems lately? Perhaps because we see in them a reflection of our own growth, maturing, aging and death? While enjoying a rootedness we may envy... Trees When I was a child there was a chestnut. Her candles blazed all May long, giving way To tawny rubies casked in spiky green, Her low-arced branches luring me to climb and conquer. Later it was a beech tree I loved best. My auntie had one growing by her gate. Though she had many shapely arms, she called it Venus de Milo for her voluptuous torso And sinewy skin. Next came a birch, slender silver Barred with elegant black, bronze too at her wrists, yet tough as tundra, And in season a shimmer of shivering, Winter-defying gold. There were many more saplings for my spinney, Hornbeams and hollies, lissom willows, Doomed tragedies of elm and ash, Even a few prickly conifers, and then There was rowan… But now I choose you, the oak. Warts and wrinkles, Scars and crags, y...
Posts
On Headley Heath I seem to have been writing a bit about trees lately. I've always loved them, a life form that does not need to think in order to be. The following poem is about two literal trees close to the car park and trailer cafe on Headley Heath. In a poem they are of course metaphorical too, and as reader you can choose which meanings work for you - relationship, endurance, strength through togetherness, faithfulness as a fruitful, not a negative thing. How might a Bible metaphor from Isaiah 61 - "oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord" - resonate with you? Two trunks rise into a single canopy A whole summer of sun has Soaked their leaves in gold Which now flames down to earth Autumnally, fire for the dark Where, millionfold, their roots Kiss and commingle and empower Next Spring’s upsurging. How many storms have battered their embraces? How many droughts sucked at their life? How many seasons rippled into rings? How many generations of acorns did they...