Trees are the best plants of all. In their variety, their beauty, their practical and life-saving contributions to every other thing on the planet. I grew up spending long summer days roaming around in the woods, often with a book. I am a Dendrophile (a person who loves trees, forests.)

Dead trees: battered trunks, broken branches, fallen logs, scattered limbs…in some ways more fascinating in their stark jagged shapes…almost threatening…prickly sticks and twigs all underfoot.

I looked for poems about dead trees. This one is about autumn and I am presenting an April photo. It’s nice though and appropriate anyway.

The fallen tree lies still
Amongst the hush of autumn morn,
And dwells within a weeded tomb
Upon an amber bed,
The silence stirred from slumber
Crunching leaves beneath my feet,
When once they flickered in the breeze
They now lay cold and dead.

The fallen tree lies still
Amongst the nettles that remain,
And wrapped within an ivy shawl
That’s dampened by the dew,
It winds around its brittle trunk
And grips its winkled bark,
Its leaves are shining in the sun
That’s slowly breaking through.

The fallen tree lies still
Amongst the mass of broken twigs,
As beams descend through branches bare
In sadness it does dwell,
To light the wilting bracken
On the long and winding path,
That gently waves as I do pass
And bids a last farewell.

The Fallen Tree (Andrew Blakemore/poemhunter.com)

A mysterious poem…for a slightly sinister scene.

The branches looked first like tepees,
but there was no emptiness.
Like piles of leaves waiting
for fire: at the foot of
the wisewoman trees,
at the foot of the broken General,
next to the tree of the veteran girl
who died this summer slow red cloth

The Branches (Jean Valentine/poemhunter.com)
Turn left at the pink and blue stick?

One Comment on “LOGS AND LIMBS

  1. I love trees and forests…nice to know that obsession has a name


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