I spent a long time with
this twisted, aged and yet still growing tree. Hanging on the very edge of a
cliff, always reaching westward. Gnarled into an incredible beauty, so
unlike the “stately elms”, with a broad canopy of green, that graced our street in
my childhood Denver
Somehow, because of her, I see that identity
in this tree. I wish that I had a photo of those winter trees, or the
bristlecone and gnarled sequoias that I have seen. I do have a clear, visual
remembrance, though.
A wonderful poem, by a very fine poet about "trees".
Hard Night
by Christian Wiman
What words or harder gift
does the light require of me
carving from the dark
this difficult tree?
What place or farther peace
do I almost see
emerging from the night
and heart of me?
The sky whitens, goes on and
on.
Fields wrinkle into rows
of cotton, go on and on.
Night like a fling of crows
disperses and is gone
What song, what home,
what calm or one clarity
can I not quite come to,
never quite see:
this field, this sky, this
tree.
From: www.poets.org
Every tree truly does have its own identity, made even more evident in fall or winter without their leaves. What a gift you were given by your lovely passenger and her insightful observation. The trees in your photo speak volumes of their time here....beautiful. I enjoyed the poem by Christian Wiman too. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteGlad you love trees, too. I was raised in Colorado where every tree is absolutely precious, partly because there are so few native trees on the plains area. Yes, I have carried that gift with me since I was a teen. What a remarkable lady she was....spent her final years working for world peace through UNESCO and many civic organizations. A true inspiration. She never once talked about the horrors that surrounded the tattoo on her arm.
DeleteI see so many forms in the gnarled tree you photographed. Like mountain bristlecones, these seaside trees must endure changeable elements and severe weather. Perhaps like your beautiful passenger, they carve out their own unique identity. The Wiman poem is thought-provoking. Thank you for sharing it, Duff.
ReplyDeleteI was absolutely surprised to find this tree. Much of the cliff had been eroded by winter storms. It truly is a survivor. I know how you have those in your mountains, too. I love to think of my friend's unique identity being comparable to the trees,,,,thank you for that awareness.
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