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January 19, 2016

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Photography, Poetry

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Tree Song

Two Tree limbs reaching into the sky like arms

Even in winter,
with nary a leaf,
trees hold up the sky,
cut the wind and
frame the stars.
Tall maples sing our future,
lament our past.
First, morning pianissimo
swells to workday allegro
but quickens to andantino
after a tangerine sunset.
A mad tarantella makes
Saturdays ache with dance.
Stormy days, we hear brass
crescendo of crashing branches.
Trees measure our lives.
Each season has its movement,
winter’s pianissimo alternating
with icy crescendo:
concertos made from time,
measured into beauty,
the melody our breath,
the bass our heartbeat.
Woodwind chords are
refined by strings.
In the tree song,
we find time
and healing.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: I hope you are hearing music. Have a great week!

25 thoughts on “Tree Song”

  2. Oh, I definitely heard the conductor leading with his stiff baton, crisp with the icy cold on the first “listen” and now, I hear the notes of birds chirping and joining in. I mentioned in my first comment the different instruments you included. (On the 20th) 🙂

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  6. I can picture the branches conducting the natural orchestra, Brenda. You were wonderful with so many musical details which could “hear.” The other descriptions paint pictures in my mind. 🙂 I like to frame the moon with branches. I will be back. . . Hugs! ♡

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