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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Sometimes trees’ green fingers Stand still like reposing harbingers Of hope and despair; they meditate On our ignorance of them who medicate Us when diseases burgle into our souls Taking us unawares like April fools. At times tree branches and leaves Come to a halt and fold up their sleeves. Like parentless kids, they stand still, Holding Ozone Crisis Meetings until God’s silent servants come and sway Them from angle to angle, wiping away The spells of fear that cloud our faces Each time leaves go on leave leaving no traces Of further existence for Man who digs His graves whenever he murders figs— The figs that link us to the Unseen Being Who reveals His presence in Man’s wellbeing. But when God’s blowing sons and daughters Sweep across Earth, letting twigs leave their fathers, Falling twigs and dried leaves clatter And produce celestial music to flatter Man while lizards play basses with tails And flying fowls chant solos and tales. Then Man joins this universal worship, Going down on knees to supplicate God’s fellowship, Feeding his doubting heart with conviction As Christ’s promises come to completion Revealing the active hands of a Father Invisible Who marvels His creatures with things invincible. When these invisible but active servants of God gather More momentum in synergy with Sun, leaves wither, Tree trunks go epileptic while roofs migrate And mortal Man gets to concentrate On these leaves and stems which go on retirement To remind him of his own imminent retirement. (Between Carriere and Mbankolo, Sunday 02 December 2012)
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