Tag Archives: trees

Trees reprise

Shafts of cellulose stretching to the sky
Leafed about with green

No autumn yet, no crimson stains
the future remains unseen

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

The first two lines are from a short poem posted here in 2017….

This poem is posted for earthweal

And the budding begins

And the budding begins
sticky tree buds emerge
from bare wood

Reddish at first
shading to luminous green
a promise

Nature now waits
as do I, with baited breath
for the right moment

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This is a rewrite of an earlier poem, Study in Green, re-visited for Sarahs challenge about seasonal changes over at EarthWeal

Dryad

Made manifest in evening gloom
she and her tree lean together
roots awash with flooding
strain and pain her
others reach branches
and grasping twigs
to the stricken one
but wood is not muscle
dryads are not women
to push and pull
nothing can be done
once upright and bold
they lean now together
until they fall

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem is a response to the painting shown below:

Climbing a beech tree in your parents’ garden

A truly wonderful poem from Sarah Connor. Enjoy!:

Sarah writes poems

You will come to a place
where you can stop,
back pressed against the trunk –
a place where you can feel
your soft limbs branch and stiffen,
and the sap pulsing under
your skin, and all your thoughts
are nests and breezes,
and the taste of sunlight,
and the tree holds you here,
like a father holds a child –

Or maybe
your father hoists you up
onto his strong shoulders,
so you can peer through
the green leaves of his hair,
over the fence to where
next-door’s cat lolls in the sunshine
and the old lady jabs
at her flowerbed

and now two butterflies
spiral up towards you
and a bird swoops in
to land upon a twig

and no-one else can see
the tree-ness of you.

I’m hosting at earthweal this week, and asking you to think about how children connect with nature. Or adults, I guess. 

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Full of trees and Words

Tree limbs reach out
grab the evening sun
today my mind has been
full of trees and words

Their canopy is shelter
clerestory, the centre
of green life
that great Spring pump of sap upwards
the heartbeat of every forest

Plant a tree knowing it will outlive you
breathe life in the world
the weight of your feet
firming the earth
around its roots
simple midwifery

In trees are stories, histories
the future

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

 

Winter at the hill fort

Bright winter pools lean against the
steep grassy ramparts
and trees are doubled by reflection.
Our path is not so much muddy
as at swimming depth
so we clamber up to where
large cloven hoofprints
embroider the rim.
A fat old oak
moss green, porcine, thick with time
blocks our way,
it’s toes scrabbling
pushing into slushy mud.

 

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

Autumn clothes

Cant remember where
Or when.
But in the busy travellings of last week,
alone in a lane of green leaves,
Stood a single tree.
Clad in oranges and crimsons,
lighted with brief yellows.
Spectacular.

These days,
I have just two seasons clothes,
Summer and Winter.
‘Layering’ is supposed to fill the gap
And so, I sit here
Jeans, T-shirt, hoodie,
slightly chilled.
Where once I would have had
an autumn coat
With thin woollen gloves.
Autumn clothes,
Like the tree.

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond