Tree Story

Tree Story

Silence covered  us like a blanket

withdrawing the sound, as if in a 
tunnelled vacuum.

And momentarily I seemed to

hear the trees,  sighing for their

recent loss of children, lain

like a restless, ragged, dirty, carpet
turning into trampled mulch.
Their brief coloured splendour over.

At the copse gate appeared a horse and rider.

With good conformation and groomed to 

perfection, both were denizens of this

district.

Warned of boggy ground ahead, we made our

way with sticks to the fore, into the tree platoon.

and observed the congregation of branches

praying above.

Like proud soldiers they stood on guard
resisting the wind and forces of nature.

So should we; remain steadfast, keeping our 
promises, oaths and standing our ground
like these tenacious troopers.

Misty-eyed, I paused in wonder, beeched, as we

were, on top of the wolds, here at Cold Aston

in Glorious Gloucestershire. 

🐎🐎🐎🐎

Photos by d: words by Ck. 30/11/19- 1/12/'19.

Finally, with the recent television programe on Seamus Heaney
(Nobel Prize for Literature 1995 ) here is one of his short poems:

The Poplar

Wind shakes the big poplar,

quicksilvering the whole tree

in a single sweep.

What bright scale fell and

left this needle quivering?

What loaded balances have

come to grief?

From "The Spirit Level "

!996.

Keep warm and cosy.

WiFi for now,

Ck.