Tree Talk

Once a tree
Jumped and plumped itself
In front of me, as if to say that it had a right
To the place it had been growing there in the woods
In the middle of what I imagined would be the perfect bedroom
For it was feng shui and perfectly arranged, with light enough and oriented
Rightly so, and I decided that to assuage my guilt I would argue the saliency of this
Point, right then and there, with that all high-and-mighty tree, so full of itself
That it dared to trumpet its just cause to the ground it had claimed
As a seed and chartreuse seedling, growing form from the
Death on the forest floor, which now was mostly
Paved and roadways, highways
And bi-ways that
This tree yet
Fought…

Trees in a line
A puffy frilly line
Of attention
And attention-getting
Smite exhaustion
With their exhalation
And infuse me with great ponderances!

How is it these trees make joy
To manifest
Stirring with the breezes
My soul to flutter
Like leaves
Stutter in high winds
And bark shards, twists,
Flakes, peels and chips
Pitching to the ground?

Why do trees emit awe
Through their curvistically wending roots—
Engendering appreciation to love
Brides and bridegrooms they wed
High atop an airy perch
The dress and tuxedo
Seem like seagulls and crows
Convening for signals and chow—
Through their waxy to velvety
Rubbery to coarse skin;
Through their spiny to serrated
Smooth to geometric form;
Through their scratchy to squishy
Hard to brittle husk;
Through their gray to brown
Green to blue
Black to white
Red to yellow color;
Through their conical to spreading
Giant to miniature
Thick to scraggly shape;
The trees make us think
And fill us with emotion.

Whether seen in daylight or nightlight
Sunlight or moonlight
Brightlight or darklight
Weathering, weathered and weatherless,
Trees are our progenitors, parents
Ancestors, forebears and stewards
And at once our prodigies, progenies
Children, lineage, and family
And that is why we call out our
Family tree!
When once we said our
Tree of life…
And even before then, our
Entrance into this world
Was owed to the trees…
Whereas now,
They help house us
And make us comfortable
As we kill them slowly off
And us too….

Then that tree spoke again, and asked
If I had seen what this imagery meant, or if I still
Felt that I had the right to take a life of an elder by hundreds
Of years, and if in doing so, my bedroom now covering a rotting stump
Would I sleep better at night for knowing I had less oxygen to breathe
And less cool shade in the summer and less insulation from bitter wind
In the wintertime to keep me comfortable, and I thought a minute
Put on some gloves… Grabbed my chainsaw…
And cut off my legs at the ankles
Red sap oozing out
And the last thing I heard was a loud rending crash!