Norfolk Trees

They cling to flat horizons, bent and wizened
by the north wind’s blast, sculpted into
giants, witches, hobgoblins and dragons.

Here and there they come together,
in woods, copses and swathes of ancient forest,
huddling against the weather.

Once they commanded the landscape,
a place to hide, to sleep, to love:
broad-leaved warriors that escaped

Bronze Age deforestation, Norfolk trees—
if they spoke, it would be with a Norfolk burr,
like gorse clothed in the low drone of bees.

Kim M. Russell, 16^th April 2026

On the 16^th day of NaPoWriMo, we are reading a poem called ‘Ocean’ by Robinson Jeffers, in which he “delivers an almost oracular, scriptural description of the sea not just as a geographical phenomenon, but a sort of being – old, wise, profound, and able to teach those who want to learn.”

Our challenge is to write poems in which we describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.