There's something about light--or the absence of light--peaking through trees that always catches my attention and attracts the lens of my camera. Glimpses of light and pockets of shadow all in one glance. The sense of being thoroughly hidden and yet seen at the same time. And all that's required for this beautiful scene is the strength and stillness of the tree as the sun dances around it.
Roots clinging to the earth,
I dream of trees,
a sound source of solid strength
a quiet force gently coaxing its way inside, deep to the bone of life
which absorbs its power like a sponge.
I dream of trees
that sprout in spring
living on light and air,
leaving little gifts wrapped in leaves before dancing with death in fall.
My big dreams
are sprouting weeds
rising until
they can’t be contained.
My dreams are
red roses
climbing vines
expanding moss
forests and fields
as high and as wide as the sky;
But my lilies have been picked
thorn bushes ripped from the earth
my trees chopped down
my green grass trodden.
All that’s left is the sharp bite of the lawnmower striking out violently in fear of the dandelion.
Those who use to water my plants
now find
it more pleasurable
to watch them slowly die.
-NF