Saturday, 27 February 2010

leaves clinging to me like limpets

brown dots of decay has started to show
my gnarled branches sway slowly
you can see the cracks in me
I can't hear the beatific sounds
of wind. I think of how I chimed
to its hmm. it only makes me sad;
tears slowly fall from my eyes.
music of the soil is holding me now
I like the wetness of rain as never before
rooted I stand, the wood roughened
yet I have hope that keeps me alive
new shoots will come off me,
I will again go green, leaves clinging
to me like limpets, greyness forgotten.

"running away was never a hallmark of a tree, why should I let it be now?"


  1. I love 'music of the soil is holding me now', as though Spring's Song is about to begin. And my hearts begs it, play on.

  2. Stay exactly where you are - the wind will catch up, run or not.

  3. A beautiful image of renewal--and keeping the faith at the most difficult moment.

  4. I like the image and comparison of the tree and renewal of our own soul. If the tree is strong enough, the wind and time (itself) cannot pull it from the roots.

  5. You expressed the struggle to "hold on" so beautifully...this resonated deeply with me on this cold winter day.

  6. It's Hell growing old! We could learn how to cope with it from your tree.

    Thank you for your clever rendition of my OSI prompt, 'running.'

  7. wonderful poem and so perfect for this season where so many of us lean toward new shoots. As for aging, a friend often says "aging ain't for sissies.

  8. I really liked the "music of the soil" part. It gave me fascinating pictures in my mind.

  9. We maybe sometimes like trees, but for every new season, comes a new beginning...and for us for every trial and tribulation comes a new hope...a will to survive.

    Thanks for sharing this lovely post!