“Talking Tree” — Image by kenne
Talking Tree
“Hey you,” said a hollow raspy old voice.
Looking around, there was no one near me.
Concluding the voice came from people
on nearby boulders, I kept on walking.
“I know you heard me, don’t you see me?”
The voice was the same, this time more stern.
Still, there was no one behind me,
only the remains of an old tree.
Perhaps the voice came from behind the tree.
I began moving toward the tree, when,
suddenly one of the tree limbs began to move.
This can’t be, the tree was waving to me.
Was the sun starting to get to me?
“Don’t be afraid, come a little closer.
My voice was damaged from all the smoke.
Yes, the voice you hear is me,” said the tree.
This cannot be a talking tree, I thought.
Yet, there’s no one else around.
Still a non-believer, I nervously whispered,
“You cannot be a talking tree!”
“When I was green, I lived with other trees,
sharing views of ten mountain ranges,
dancing with the wind at Windy Point
where the desert turns into a lush forest.”
“Daily I would talk to stone images
carved over time by the wind,
creating impressionable stone statues
guarded by the Rock spire at Windy Point.”
“Over time lightening strikes have spark fires,
destroying forests, scarring the mountainsides,
leaving stumps and distorted trees
to cultivate a new life in the Catalina Mountains.”
“You should always listen,” said the tree.
“Listen to the trees and stone images, for they
hold the secrets to this mountain jewel overlooking
the Old Pueblo in the desert below.”
kenne
This is beautiful. I love the picture. This reminds me of a recent poem of mine called Lovelight of Trees.
. . . thanks. I appreciate the feedback.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
First posted August 2010 by kenne.