This is a sketch done back in 2010. The poem below is a reminder of a time when I could easily sit and visit with a symbol of being “in spirit” … inspired.
Tree
Not the straight and groomed
That interests me today.
Instead, I sit below a tree
Crooked and curving
Leaning and swaying.
The clefts and cracks
From long since broken
Branch and stem
Offer sanctuary and rest
For feather, fur, and scale.
Angled trunks that turn
A differed path
From neighboring trees
That bumped and pressed
And now no longer stand.
Stone in shifting ground
Water pools and streams
Train roots out and shallow
Down and deep.
And so, it goes for me.
Physical and mental trauma
From the past create the
Clefts and cracks that offer
Sanctuary and rest for those
Who love and live.
Past relationships
That bumped and pressed
My angled trunk.
Soiled fears with hardened
Habits form the stuff that
Roots infuse.
Thoughts and feelings stream
Evaporate then return
As hidden life
In cold leafless days
That springs forth then
Shade through draught and
Offer an autumn-colored crown.
There is beauty in short comings
Failures, scars, burs, and tangles.
They define our shape
With all the hardness and
Softness of a tree.
Greg, I am so moved by your poetry. Honest and rich. Thank you!