Monday, November 23, 2009

For G.

A tree decides not to hate the ground.

"She could not have received you, my straying leaves,

Had you not let go of me first;

Not once,

But a thousand times.

You spread yourself over her as if she were precious,

But I think

She was just close by

And besides,

You had already fallen as far as you could go.

What good does it do me

To be so constant?

My arms are full of emptiness

All the same."

A tree decides not to hate the ground.

After all,

Spring, and fullness, will come again in time--

Still, each ring

Leaves her older

Though stronger,

And at night, in Winter,

She dreams of bending without a care,

Green again in a sweet breeze

Of June and the way things were.



Cloudia said...

You have such a fertile and spectacularly vernacular muse!!

Aloha, Friend!

Comfort Spiral

Kay said...

Well, you can say that again! :)

Riot Kitty said...


Shadow said...

trees are pretty much like humans, in their time of rest, and in renewal in spring...

ellen abbott said...

Or the way things will be.

Lil Red said...

Dreaming of the way it was while accepting the way it is. It's not easy.

I love the vision this poem "leaves" me with.

Leaves...get it? Ha! :)

Dulce said...

Trees ... the first to remind us of these seasons...

Mama Zen said...

"She was just close by . . ."

Amazing writing.

Daryl said...

Ahhh so lovely

Gabriella Moonlight said...

I honestly have never read anything so beautiful and meaningful in my life...thank you!

xo GM

RachelW said...

That's a keeper. I love it!