 | |
| Photo from Wikipedia, not from Student Union (but similar!) |
and with every quake
every shake
I sense the depth of it too.
Every swing of the branch takes me
higher by my own height
and by my own height again.
Once, in my youth, the distance
was part of the fun.
My green limb clung and swung
bending and grasping
tightly to its base.
But with every blow, every bluster
green tightened to yellow
and yellow is too delicate
much to delicate
to hold.
2 comments:
Nice . . .
Molly has some awesome Gingkoes on her street.
Bio Fact: gingkoes have male and female reproductive organs on separate plants. (One of the first to do so).
This poem is stunning on so many levels, Naomi.
For one, the tone and structure of it reminds my of our dear Emily - particularly that first line. I love that it is formulated as a riddle, and it took me a little while to puzzle out that I was seeing the tree from the leaf's perspective. It's a brilliant twist, and it leads my mind down a number of other interesting paths... on what tree might we ourselves be leaves?
The repetition of the final line is lovely and haunting - there is something in it that is also peaceful, perhaps the repetition itself, and that seems fitting for a leaf doomed only to drift gently down and melt again into the earth that gave it life.
I also adore that you've been putting pictures up with your poems, and I think I'll start doing that myself, starting with my next one, which should be up by tomorrow!
<3
Post a Comment