fortress, tree house, throne
toe holder, ship’s mast
staircase to the heavens
galleon of the woods above
tentacle crawling roots below
battle scarred silver hide
xylem and phloem
of centuries, absorbing
earth and air, detritus
one fleeting moment of many
ghost at the back of an eyelid—
the chestnut mare
scratching her rump
against a beech sapling
green with fast flowing growth
on a June evening
in a cloud of golden gnats
and her tail swishing
from side to side
the memory ingrained
in a low-slung limb
a moss saddled horse.
IMAGINE A TREE
You have definitely caught the spirit of that tree great Melissa. What a pleasure to have share the moment.
Oh I want to take a book, climb into her branches and just stay for a while. This is lovely
Climbing trees— one of the greatest adventures a child can have. I enjoyed the poem and can easily picture the chestnut mare scratching her behind. 🙂 –Curt
Madame, you think too much. You philosophise, you feel …
Your photography is inspiring too.
“ghost at the back of an eyelid—”
❤ this so.
All the imaginings breathed in and out by a tree this old. And the “moss saddled horse” is just great. Odd as it sounds, I’ve got kind of a thing for moss, so this tree would enthrall me for hours…
Lovely! Images are stunning as well.
Thank you! The tree is pretty amazing. It’s got to be a couple of hundred years old, at least. Lots of history. The house, whose grounds it stands on, has an interesting history too. It was burnt down during the Irish Civil War.
Such an impressive tree and poem.
Kinds words, thank you! I’ve you’re ever around Castlebar. it’s worth a visit. It stands on the grounds of old Moore Hall.
Reblogged this on Ripple Poetry.
Thank you so much, Pearl. I really appreciate your support.