04/08/09
There is this tree at the edge of a pond. The branches are thick and steady in the wind of change that blows around me, while the little branches--still young--quake as they try to find their place in the sky.
In its trunk run deep grooves, scars, and wrinkles of the past, each one rich with stories and 
experiences it wishes to tell if someone were around to listen. There are times it stands alone, but not today. I sit at its feet and hear the birds that once nested in the branches, the laughter of those who climbed its limbs, the scratching pens of poets and writers that sat in a daze upon its roots, and the sweet whisper of lovers it had witnessed scratch their names into its flesh.
experiences it wishes to tell if someone were around to listen. There are times it stands alone, but not today. I sit at its feet and hear the birds that once nested in the branches, the laughter of those who climbed its limbs, the scratching pens of poets and writers that sat in a daze upon its roots, and the sweet whisper of lovers it had witnessed scratch their names into its flesh.What more will it have to say? The wind could not keep me away today, but it's now silent and awaits my return.
05/25/09
The seasons have changed and so has the tree. It is green again. I didn't know if I would ever see life in these branches, but it is alive, and I'm alive. Leaves fill in the empty spaces once felt and gather light from the summer sun. She cuddles me within her roots and I rest.
1 comment:
Stoph! It's Kelsey. I'm a little bit in love with this year in the life of an epic tree post. I love watching trees fluff out in the spring and then get all bony in the fall. It's the best. Thanks for documenting this wonderfully!
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