Thursday, 10 August 2017

A Tree Stump

Four little poems which simply record what I saw.

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i.

A lime tree felled, its three-foot stump
For days continued drawing sap
From blind-eyed roots which like a pump
Spread liquor on the stump’s blond lap.

Fermenting in the sun’s May heat
It bulked with sawdust like a gruel,
For sipping ants and spiders, meat,
Though flashing like a prism’d jewel.

Such doggedness and will to live!
May I, now dropping hair and teeth,
When lopped by time no less contrive
To dazzle with my final breath!

May 2014

ii. A Tree Stump (Afterthought)

Now weeks have passed that stump has set
Into a shelf of leather brown
Hardened by summer’s grin or frown
And the day’s whim, now parched, now wet.

The grain is glossy, crosscut by
A pattern from the chainsaw’s blades;
All’s polished into hard-gleam shades
As by the weather’s husbandry.

Tanned and toughened like a dried corse,
Aglint in noonday’s heavy sun,
Senseless it sleeps as the weeks run
Dumb to memory or remorse.

June 2014

iii. A Tree Stump (Again)

Two months later, passing that way
In the chill morn of a damp day,
Bemused I saw the stump had sprung
A whorl of leaves, all freshly slung:

Dew-dropped and dimpled as a hand,
Through the grey-walled bark, rough like sand,
Sea-water green they squeezed to life,
Toothsome as vegetables for the knife.

Truly, from the first Big Bang leap
A force in nature does not sleep;
So these frail leaves in the bark’s grist
Struggle to life and will not desist.

August 2014

iv. A Tree Stump (Final)

But in one month the tale was done,
The stump was grubbed; a shallow hole
Of dowdy chippings, shrunk in sun,
Is all that’s left, where cats now roll.

September 2014

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© May-September 2014

 

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