See Not the Forest, But the Tree
October 19th, 2008. Published under Janet Schlarbaum, Poetry. No Comments.
By Willam Wyndham Wyatt
Posted by Janet Schlarbaum
It was not that long ago that we probably lived in trees. The ground was way too dangerous and filled with hungry predators looking for their next meal. We have come a long way since then, but we still have a connection to trees. We use their wood to build our homes. We place them around our homes for shade and other reasons. We seem to imagine that we have outgrown the need for their comfort and security. Is this really true? Sometimes, I wonder.
When I was young, so long ago,
I fell in love with trees.
I don’t know why I felt this love.
It built up by degrees.
It seemed I was enchanted
by a sprite within the wood.
I came to realize, of course,
these feelings were all good.
I learned a lot about the trees.
I learned what they like best.
A sunny meadow, room to grow,
a small stream gives them zest.
A place to shade and drop their leaves,
a home for nesting birds.
These things are what a tree looks for,
not best described by words.
They’re best described by going out
and touching them, you see.
‘Cause trees are real and rugged things.
Go out and love a tree.
I’ve had my differences with trees. Having been a carpenter has had an effect on my soul, but a man must eat. I think the trees understand, but they too, can be sad. When a fruit tree gives up its fruit, it knows that there is a greater chance that its seeds will spread to other new ground, so its sadness is comforted by the promise of new growth, new beginnings, just like us, I suspect.