Tuesday, April 9, 2019

What the tree sees

We crowd each other,
younger jostling older
as we politely fight
for air and sun and
rain and decomposition
of most things that
provide food. Saplings
chatter and chirrup 
with far more bravado
than courage, more fear 
than inherent bravery
underlying the claim,
the bluff, the assertion
of opinion as fact.
Saplings know all
as they slyly eye
each other for prime
position in the sun.
They see me but
pretend I’m not there,
a reminder of what
they become, assuming,
of course, they first

I see all this, remembering
myself as know-it-all sapling,
knowing that I know less now
than when I was young. Now 
what I see is only
my shadow.

Tweetspeak Poetry is hosting a poetry prompt this weekfor Poetic Earth Month. It’s a simple prompt, based on a dreamy, haunting photograph of trees by Kelly Sauer and asking what the tree sees. Kelly is also the photographer for the cover photo of my second novel, A Light Shining


L.L. Barkat said...

Oh, this:

what I see is only
my shadow."

Kelly Sauer said...

The double layering of the first part of the poem immediately slowed me down to see both the trees and our humanity. And your ending. Oh my.