They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their
fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. —Psalm 1:3
Trunk, bark, branch, leaf, fruit
do not wholly make a tree
therefore we lie a little, saying,
There’s a nice spot let’s sit under that tree,
before spreading a blanket in the shade,
sunlight and leafshadow dappling our faces.
For the tree we see is matched by the tree
we do not see, its mirror self that grows
beneath the ground, the trunk extending
beneath the trunk, the branches branching
through the soil, stretching out to gather
life-giving groundsoak that sinks
into the earth from above and the particulate
nutrients born of decay and broken
rock, every hairlike rootlet rendered in service
to the search for the stuff of life, sunlight’s
necessary complement, the synthesis
in photosynthesis. So in truth we might say,
spreading our blanket, Here’s a nice spot
let’s sit over this tree, knowing
there is no shade, no fruit, no perch for birds,
no tree at all without the tree we cannot see,
the tree the grass and fallen leaves adorn,
the tree that grasps the ground beneath our feet.
Photo by Daniel Salcius on Unsplash
What a beautiful poem! I have always enjoyed thinking of the activity that is taking place all around and beneath the parts of the tree that we see; how the roots are reaching, growing, absorbing there beneath us while we look at the results.
Beautiful, indeed! The seen & the unseen of treeness. Thank you!
Thank you so much, fellow CavanKerryan. Lyrical evocation that places us within what matters, created with beautifully heart-held artistry.