He was a country squire, that old, stately oak.
Each time a breeze stirred his brown, brittle leaves
I was certain that he spoke. I listened close,
for his words were well disguised by the weeping
of wound and worry, the grind of sand and time.
Yesterday, the old tree came down as I watched
from across the street. And, I raised my jar high
to his voice in my mind - Farewell. Blessed be.
The Sunday Whirl words for Open Link Monday at Real Toads
Monday, March 25, 2013
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
24 comments:
Oh, I love this. I love trees, with their diverse personalities. They only speak to a chose few, as this old country squire spoke to you.
K
I'm like Kay, I love this. Trees have soul, that's all there is to it.
Yes, count me in, too, I love this! I've never doubted that trees have soul!
Preachin to the choir, but count me in on the love. The oaks are looking especially gnarly right now, with their old leaves off and new leaves unfound.
A fine toast to the many seasons
and moods of a tree.
And to the voices we make for our insights,
and inspiration we have from sharing their time with them.
Soul-less or not -- like the rest of us.
But I did wonder why a "jar"?
mmm more than trees have soul...you do as well...i really like the sound of this mz....there are some great near rhymes and near end sounds in this...you understand how words play together and it comes across in your writing..that is cool to me...love the toast...love that its a jar...that is down home to me...smiles.
Might there be poteen in that jar? :)
A Dozen Whirls
i trees the fruitful nourishing ones as well as the ornate decoratives ones; your poems is a lovely bonding ode
much love...
I always feel like crying when I see a majestic, old tree uprooted. It is like a lament for the passing of green, good things. I'm so glad this found resonance with you as well.
Hey Mama Zen,
I thought of your poem this morning when I read this poem by Robert Morgan called "Living Tree". Tree poems abound, of course -- as they should. Morgan's poem, like yours, seems to touch on the notion of lastingness [if I may coin a word] which can be inspired by simple unexpected moments where at other times it does not live. So I raised my jar to you when I read this.
BTW, I had never heard of Robert Morgan before, but will have to read more of him. I found his website if you are interested.
Lovely stately tribute.
Lovely stately tribute.
I hate to see an old tree being chopped down and applaud this poem in honour of such, and the one who raised her jar.
Sums up how I felt when I had to have a huge eucalyptus cut down...
It is sad when the old trees come down.
The country squire... Oh, this is just lovely! This is from a word list? Well, I might have to check the Sunday Whirl out because this is just... inspired.
Blessed be- to him, to you.
I love trees. I absolutely love this poem.
I love trees and I love this!!!!!!!
Now that's a fitting tribute!
A meaningful tribute to the old stately oak ~ Love your voice here ~
It's sad to see the big trees come down. But I never mind, because trees are renewable resources. I'll raise my glass to a tree felled. :)
OMG, this kills me. How sad to see such a stately being come down. Thank you for your blessing. He heard it, I know. Blessed Be.
This spoke directly to my heart.
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