A Night With Old Tree Before the City Cut It Down

The tree is leaning over, it is ancient and it is ill
and its face is that of a man or something greater
I sit and stare and take in its fragrance
and I’m glad
at the end of its life
it spared a blip of a moment for me


The tree knows I’m there,
though I may be no more than a pinprick
or a faint draft
everything talks
everything listens
and the old spirit speaks to me or the night


It wonders aloud about what a strange thing this life is
It muses about the fate of its seeds
It moans over its aching branches
It peeks above the rooftops made out its cousins
and surveys the rest of the town


Tired as all things are
after a long day or life
when the evening is old and it’s time to sleep
It yawns and sways lazily
And gives one last thought to the draft
poking at its feet


The stars swirl and dance to your music
and they take on the colors
of your thoughts and your dreams
When my wandering is over
I can only hope to be as wise and fleeting as you

One thought on “A Night With Old Tree Before the City Cut It Down

  1. This is easily my favorite of your poems I have read. My only real note is in the final stanza you have a shift in perspective and begin speaking directly to the tree, and it took me a couple lines of reading to be sure that was what was happening, at first I wasn’t sure who “you” was. Stanza 1 had me near tears though, I’m pretty sure I have lived that moment.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *