Inspired by the reflections of Hermann Hesse
Trees are potent preachers, growing together
In woods and copses or standing solitary.
The world rustles in tree tops
And their roots reach to infinity.
Nothing is holier or as perfect,
As a handsome, robust tree.
A felled tree reveals its naked wounds,
A story told in a slice of stump,
Written in its growth rings and deformities.
Trees are shrines.
Hidden in every tree is a heart,
Every tree is unique:
Its shape and the veins of its skin;
The smallest scars on its bark;
The tiniest play of leaves
In its topmost branches.
Trees know nothing of ancestors,
Nothing of the children
They beget each year,
Trusting in the secret of their seeds.
Trees whisper in the evening,
When we are plagued by childish fears.
Trees have long-lasting, peaceful thoughts;
Living so much longer
They are wiser.
© Kim M. Russell, 2015