There was a time
when I believed trees were the highest form of life on this little blue planet....
and maybe I still believe it to be true...
I share this little bit of land I live on with a 300 year old Oak...
She is majestic..
it would take 3 of me to reach my arms around her.
I can see her from my studio, from the house, from the hill...
She shades my Cretan Labyrinth.
She is what I see when I step into it.
Her north side is covered in cool thick moss but her bark is cracked and scarred...
The cracks are deep,
like wrinkles in an old woman's skin...
they show the life She has led,
what she has seen summer after summer.
Sometimes I walk to her just to touch Her,
to thank Her.
Sometimes She leans into me, greeting me......
sometimes while leaning back
I cry for deep reasons and press my face against Her...
sometimes into the soft,
and sometimes into the hard.
photo of beautiful Great Grandmother...
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1 comments:
Twice, I watched trees dance. I was on drugs when the water oaks danced, but I wasn't on drugs when the willows did. Both of these incidents happened decades ago, but they're still very special to me.
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