By Lisa Harris
Central New York Branch
A triple trunk beechwood
makes its own trinity.
Farther down the path,
a black walnut’s face
scrutinizes me, and asks,
‘What brings you here today
when the wind is light
and a murder of crows’
cries assault the air?’
I do not answer.
This is no place for words.
A sugar maple’s thick bark
flaunts dark lines and swirls,
patterns for a folk dance
on this October day. I gather
long sticks, broken
and sharp, place them to make
a lean-to for fox and raccoons,
and a hiding place for spirit.
Below me, a field: golden
rod gone to dust, tractor
parts gone to rust. Purple
asters blink, behind them
a sycamore stands alone–
surrounded by pines
who drop a golden blanket
to hide its roots.
Remember
how the land lays—no boundaries—
open and wide as the divine:
crinkle bark, Euro larch, ginko,
scarlet oak, sugar maple—
the incantation of trees.
Oh! thick bark, rough and strong!_
Let me touch you. Let me hold you,_
Wind and I whisper.
Who can remember when
all land was this way?
Partly full. Partly
empty.
Quiet and loud.
I invoke milkweed,
meadow sweet, catnip, blue waxy
berries—each and everything
complete. Then a barren bough
points straight toward azure
while flapping wings announce
a rising hawk.
“This is no place for words” and yet your words take us there and give us a sacred picture of the woods, Nature, and our small space in it. Thank you for a haunting and peaceful experience.
Lisa, your homage to trees brought me peace and an uplifted spirit. We may not be able to “remember when all land was this way,” but your poem reminds us of what wonders can still be experienced. We walked with you on this autumn day, and shared your joy and love of nature. Beautifully written.
Your poem is so lyrical Lisa. It slowly lifts the reader up, up, up until you can fly away with the hawk!
Wonderful images, a poem that inspires to write, to paint, to appreciate the beauty around us. Thank you.
Beautiful! I am going on 85 now so your poem brought me back to when I could wander around amongst the nature you describe. Thru you I can picture my past and the nostalgia you bring from my days in westchester County Ny and the beauty of autumn
Beautiful poem