I found this tree on a military base. The roots had created such a cozy looking seat that I had to try it out. I fit perfectly there, although it was a little bumpy. The tall base of the tree hugged my shoulders, and as I leaned back against the trunk, I almost felt like I was swallowed up in it. I was so inspired that I wrote this free-verse poem about it.
There's something magical about this tree.
The trunk creates a bed of spicy, crunchy leaves.
A little hideaway. tucked away from all the world.
It cradles you, tucks you away for safety.
The long winding branches, twisting and turning,
going under and outwards, acrobatics to dodge each
other, yet reaching, reaching,
reaching for something more.
What lurks in the branches? What visitors make them
bob from to and fro?
Why the birds, playing catch, tag, and "I spy."
They constantly create a sweet blanket of sound.
The Green Lace overhead covers me like a shield
yet allows light to sprinkle, trickle downwards.
The leaves nod their heads to say hello, or to drift to sleep.
They dance. They wiggle, to touch each other in the wind.
Someday, someday, they'll be together again.
The strong tree. Supporting it all. Nothing can break it.
That tough skin, like sandpaper, all course and crass,
has endured all weather and hides a soft beauty inside.
The flesh of life, the source that brings about all this.
Yes, there's something magical about this tree.
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