Illustrated Poetry

My friend the poet wrote a piece especially for me.  She knows my love of trees, and she spoke for me in a way I could not.

I was deeply touched.

It also lended itself to a visual piece of art, so I played with a little accordion book.

 

Here is the poem.

 

Aboretum

 

I have forgotten to notice

how the trees love me.

 

They hung fruit low, within reach,

dropped cherries in my basket

and nuts in my lap.

They dripped syrup in my bucket

after I wounded them.

And when I was tired

from taking it all

they shaded my nap and

showered me with blossoms.

 

Yesterday I was not grateful

for their sacrifice of wood,

bark, roots, leaves and amber;

for providing me with platforms and

ladders and barriers and shelter and

altars and weapons.

 

Today I must remember

they embrace the earth

and cleanse the air.

They subdue the elements

and paint the hills for me

then beckon me outside,

lead me to clear water

and hang off the cliff to catch me.

 

Tomorrow I will sing for them

a predawn lullaby, and dance

with the firs on the mountain.

I will witness and humble myself

before our world’s great lungs,

and stand in the desert

with the boojum tree

pointing to the sky.

 

Sybilla

~ by collidescopes on October 5, 2012.