Tag Archives: trees

Climbing a beech tree in your parents’ garden

A truly wonderful poem from Sarah Connor. Enjoy!:

Fmme 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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My poem ‘Dryad’ is published at Nine Muses Poetry

I’m delighted to tell you that my poem ‘Dryad’ has been published today at Nine Muses Poetry

https://ninemusespoetry.com/

Thank you to John Looker for his poem that put dryads in my thoughts as I saw this particular poetry challenge!  My poem is a response to the painting shown below and is part of the May Challenge at Nine Muses.

may-2020-pond-at-ville-davray-with-leaning-trees-camille-corot-1873

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

Winter reveals

Winter reveals

The structure of  trees
Stark against the sky
Showing signs of hard pruning
Or scars of storm damage

Sunlight shafting through leafless woods
Illuminates gloomy roads
Reveals which are wild seeded
And which are straight lined plantations

The dark days of November
The artificial brightness of December
January and February chill
All uncover different weaknesses of the human heart

 

Copyright © 2017  Kim Whysall-Hammond