Saturday, April 01, 2006

Nesting

 

 
I see them everywhere 
cradling in the still bare wintry branches of the trees 
complicating the stark simple lines and angles 

 
Precarious, bleak, risky lattices of twig 
 nestling exposed balancing reckless so high above the ground
tenuous fragility of interlacing branches
skeletal leaves 

breathtaking even at such a distance foolhardy dangerous brave necessary 

raise a chord of identification in me a pang of painful recognition
unfeasible, extraordinary they have survived the winds and blasts of winter 


They must be sturdier than they look
tenacious 

Will the shoots, leaves, growth, verdure of spring and summer shield and protect them? 
Hide from prying eyes like mine
buffer from wind and weather
secure, fix and fasten

grow into a green cocoon-womb of warmth and safety private, intimate, shared refuge flesh and blood on bare rib and bone home life enclosing nurturing life? 

One can only hope.






 































ADDENDUM Some of these trees have since been brutally pollarded. Defoliated. Mutilated knucklebones gesturing obscenely into the sky. Empty. Bereft.




3 comments:

Identikit said...

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul -- and sings the tunes without the words -- and never stops at all."
Emily Dickinson.

You'll be OK, Lettuce. I know you will.

Now unlimpen yourself or I might have to come and water you!!

Molly Bloom said...

Brilliant poem. Stark and poignant.

Bird said...

this is a lovely piece - precise, clear, beautiful.

This disease

a bruising trebuchet battering at your fortress attacking from within Insidious  conjured unforseen  unbidden catastrophic sneaking from som...