Posts tagged ‘trees’

21/07/2013

The Apple Trees

 

We sit beneath the apple trees,

Which bloomed all through the long decline,

And raised their blossom to the skies:

A world of struggles, famine, war.

 

Those complicated patterns form

Across the grass like veins of time,

And radiate out from the trunk:

They chart another year of growth.

 

Another era for their leaves,

Which we will live, then leave behind,

As bees and beetles, moths and flies.

The shade is cool, our days are short.

 

We plant the seeds and tend the shoots:

Above us spread the apple trees.

 

 

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14/07/2013

Weight

 

There is a weight to being alive,

A density of songs and claws,

A flock of beaks and broken barbs:

It clings to flight, it grips it tight.

 

The earth will take the sycamore.

The sky will take the sycamore.

Its bark and leaves will feed and fall,

And life will take the sycamore.

 

This gravity of slowing blood;

The pressure buzz within the ears;

The dissipating breath and twitch:

It gives its all, it takes its toll.

 

The weight will keep the moon in tow.

The weight will hold us in its flow.

 

 

15/06/2013

The Ottoman and the Atheist (A 19th Century Riddle)

 

Between the trees a light breeze blew,

A gentle ripple shivered leaves.

It seemed the trees had never moved,

Their roots held deep in solid ground.

 

It seemed the breeze was passing through:

Once here then on. It barely touched

The earth at all, it had no weight.

The trees were real, the breeze a myth.

 

And from the breeze the stories grew,

And from the trees the tales were true.

In time the trees and breeze would change:

The breeze grew leaves, the trees took flight.

 

It seemed the breeze had never moved.

It seemed the trees were passing through.

 

 

20/04/2013

Under the Tree

 

So let’s not say that time will end,

Instead let’s watch the summer light

Come pouring through the valley leaves,

As if there were no other place.

 

And let’s not say it passed us by.

The earth beneath our feet is firm:

It stays the same – it doesn’t change –

We touch it, know it, share its pull.

 

So yes, we’ll simply linger on,

And take our shelter from the rain.

We’ll wait until the wind has calmed.

We’ll wait until the sun returns.

 

These moments, here beneath this tree,

Mean everything to you and me.

 

 

30/12/2012

The Sylph of Air and Time

 

Between the treetops time has curves

Where decades twine like blackbird’s songs,

Where centuries are interlaced,

And pasts are born from future space.

 

To work the weave you sway with trees,

And wind your mind up through the leaves.

Your neurons switch from time through time,

Through interlinking rings which bind.

 

In them you’ll live what might have been,

And twist back out through what is not:

All knowledge of the lives and deaths,

Are hanging in the forest’s breaths.

 

The chaos of this heavy air

Creates the mirage we see there.

16/06/2012

The Lemon Trees by the Spring

 

Down by the spring the lemon trees

Had grown and died and grown again

Since well before the town was built,

And no-one knew their real age.

 

Each year the sparrows filled the trees

With squabbling hoards of hungry mouths.

They fed and roosted, fought and bred,

And no-one thought how long they had.

 

Between the trees the old man worked.

He watered courgettes, melons, beans.

He flicked the flowers clean of flies,

Just like the old men had before.

 

The lemon trees stood by the spring,

And no-one heard the flowers fall.

08/01/2012

Treecreeper

 

They live another planet’s life,

Their world a maze of creviced wood ,

And flakes of bark and spider’s webs.

They seek the scent of insect’s paths.

 

And up they spiral, ever up –

Their probing, prizing spikes of beaks

Are thrust into the rotten reek –

They never reach the canopy.

 

Then out across the autumn woods

Where fungal spores spread sickly mats,

They claim their trees with needle trills

Like crystal wrens at misting dawn.

 

In otherness they live their lives,

As alien spirits of the oaks.