A poem about...trees |
Song For A Tree You are the first. Morning comes swiftly and inexorably With coffee to dull the pain And while the minutes are busy flashing by Already resigned to the coming day I pass beneath your branches Green and swaying Brilliant with leaves of fire Or frosty Lifeless You’re not actually all that tall For a tree And your leaves aren’t very bright in the fall When everything is busy dying But that doesn’t really matter If only I could understand what you’re saying While my footsteps crunch on dead leaves Downtrodden and slow Or pound furiously on the packed snow As I try to defeat time Trees are blessed with a certain symmetry An unending pattern of branches that Defies human comprehension Decked in leaves you whisper to me about the beauty of the world I know it’s stupid But sometimes I talk to you Glimpsing the sky between your branches Let me go Let me go Let me go I plead to the silent corridor of steadfast trunks Watching you Sometimes I think that there’s an answer In the strong worn lines Of your trunk and branches And the patterns of shade below You are eternal And I am fleeting The way to peace is to find stillness inside You are the last. When I walk home Your branches hang low before my eyes Bare and grey Or thin and trembling with weight of new leaves Translucent in the sun Trying to hold me back Make the hurried rhythm of my feet slow And even though lately I don’t listen much You call out to me In your voice without words Come back Come back Come back Come home. |