Arts + Scene » Poetry

Cheatham's Grove



Once I didn't get trees
Where I grew up
trees were
here and there among the houses
along the streets
buildings seemed bigger
I climbed trees
I liked them
But I didn't get them.

Then I came here
Here the trees are monsters
or gods
they tolerate beneath them
only the humble sorrel
the bracken
A solitary vine maple twines its branches
into random patches of sun
it will not last long
the trees are straight as sunbeams
their tops reach past the sky
their outbreath drenches the air with oxygen
their ringed hearts contain eons
I'm a flicker of the wind to them
all human history a passing storm

there is more than us
there is so much more than us

So now I get trees. The power and
the gift of trees. The splendor, and
the enormity and
the terror of trees.

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