Photo credit: Matt Davis
Listen to the trees
“Ah listen, for silence is not lonely:
Imitate the magnificent trees
that speak no word of their
rapture, but only
breathe largely the
Inspired by this poem, I remembered the three trees outside my Victorian flat in Leeds. They were my guardians and it was a time when I felt very rooted and grounded. I looked out to them most days and we greeted each other when I returned home for the day. They kept me in check when I got caught up in what had passed or what might come with their perennial reminder that everything is in flux and that, beneath it all, there is a great stillness to return to. Again and again. Whenever we forget.
Listening to Lawrence’s trees
Did you see the trees breathe?
Their leaves droop just before dawn,
in the lull before waking,
before the sun shone
and your heart stirred inside the opening.
Can you sense the quiet beingness
of the long standing guardians
who feed on the unseen force of life
without shiver or moan or sigh.
Beneath the always noise.
The ceaseless chatter.
The speeding tracks.
The keyboard taps.
Patiently holding the madness
till it stops and we sleep.
Before waking back into the dream.
Beneath it they stand
rooted into the present silence.
Tuned in to a frequency you can find
if you take the time to be still.