Even the Trees

“No one can tell me, Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes”

A A Milne
It’s a rocky marriage,
the hills and the wind.
Summer nights with starry skies
have blessed them; Winter, too,
has laced their table.

The trees are their children,
generations of oak
and elm, stately, stoic,
and then the gaudy sumac
boisterous and thin.

Storms have come and gone
and still they stand.
The saplings, supple, daring,
bend to every passing breeze, but
roots grow deep, trunks grow strong.

Even so, no matter the season
you can see them stretching
to touch the wind,
caught in a struggle
between wisdom and dream.



2 thoughts on “Even the Trees

  1. bongler

    This perfectly highlights how short, (and dare I say it,) how insignificant, is our short span on this beautiful gift of a planet.

    I actually love trees, look at them all the time, wish I could glean just a smidgen of the knowledge they have accumulated over their lifetime.

    Lovely poem indeed. Douglas.

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