Friday, 18 December 2009

Waving not Standing

For ages I wanted to write a poem;

about a tree – a winter tree outside our bedroom window -

standing black against a blue-grey sky,

its branches reaching out into fine and finer

silky twigs against a leaden cloud behind

with an occasional old leaf clinging

against its wooden lattice; and of a miracle

that sometimes happens on a still December day

when one leaf starts to twitch and move,

by forces unbeknown turns and grows

in amplitude until it waves a vigorous and happy

wave whilst all the rest around stand still. A wave

like that cries out for resonating souls and yes

I wanted to write that poem for ages.

1 comment:

  1. This poem reminds me of a tree outside my bedroom window when I grew up. I could see it before me whilst reading your poem. It was my favourite tree as it was quite majestic and magical. I'm glad you wrote this poem because now after reading it I can linger for a little while on the happy memory of my once favourite tree.