by Steve Tanham
The tree in Winter
Its life-trail etched against the sky
reveals what we cannot
Who stand below and try
—
To see within
How we became this shape
This pattern in the now
And asking how
—
Did we result in this?
Our branching tale of history
Concealed in layered thoughts
And wrapped in finery
—-
We would
Be dead and left to rot
So naked in the winter wind
Yet she is not
©Stephen Tanham
Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Thank you, Jaye.
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I love trees in every stage of their year, but especially in winter when you can see the complexity of their lives. That is a lovely poem and picture to illustrate this… good one, Steve!
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Thank you, Jaye. As the years pass I see more and more depth in the winter landscape…
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When I was younger, I couldn’t wait for the trees to come into leaf, but these days, as a bonsai grower, this is the one time I can really ‘see’ my friends and know what they are feeling…
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Lovely!
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Winter landscape can evoke as beautiful poetry as any other! The last verse is profoundly prudent.
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Thank you, Balroop. The ending was meant to pack a punch. I’m glad it worked!
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Thank you, Sue x
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