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Personal Note:

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Poem


Why to you have sides, front, back, 
left and right besides, betides?
I'm offside, on no one's side.

Why regret and hide the gnarls, 
scars and wrinkles on your hides? 
Why be ashamed of the 'love-me-dos', 
cut into your trunks, 
by strangers with sharpened blades?

Why do you hide and cower in my shade
and not reach up with your leaves skyward,
into the warm sun's arms? 
Instead you rake up my dead leaves? Why?

Where are your roots, in which my true strength lies?
Leaving your strength to arms and legs, denies you, your roots?
Be like me, rooted in the earth, reaching for the sky!

Why do you hate the passing of season so much?
For shedding and renewal, 
allows green shoots and buds to grow.
Your quest for permanence and stability
begs your leaves to free-fall, unexpectedly, 
leaving you stripped bare and unprepared.

Each winter I stand proud and tall 
with limbs bare, resilient against the cold.
I well know that such absence, lack and emptiness 
can never make me feel old.
For trees we never strive, 
but lean to and in, compliant, 
and stretch and bend gracefully.

Trees stay still and never leave, yet they claim their place.
They never seek tomorrow, satisfied with what is here and now.
Happy to shed what they no longer need, for renewal sake.
Growing slowly old, with dignity and grace.
They're mostly *'Ents', rooted in the earth, 
with trunk and branches, twigs and leaves,
content with their lot.

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