The Challenge of a Tree

If you don’t like how things are, change it! You’re not a tree. ~Jim Rohn
Thank you, Jim,
for that piece of thinking. You are so
very correct – I am not a tree! But, oh how I wished,
dreamed, tried – in days now long gone
Standing still while sun’s warmth creeps over my shoulder – feet
loosely held by tattered sneakers: wriggling out, one by one, settling on
spring’s thawing permafrosted ground.
Draw in deep breaths, let eyes flutter close: open only to what’s inside.
Bird song chatters — never mind: trapped, you cry for escape. Freedom comes,
but not without price. Fresh blades of grass sinking long, sturdy roots of bound energy
ever down,
deep in the ground: rooted, solid, long lost stability. Raise arms to the sky in homage, benediction,  let the wind guide you as it would any leaf — leave control to the sky, just sway in the breeze
the breeze
trust the firm solidity of packed earth below, grass tickling your feet, sky overhead, sun’s gentle heat
trust inner knowing that change grows in time, ring by slow ring, imperceptibly, as taught by the tree



The Wisdom of Trees

A friend asked me
the other day
what I thought —
if trees could talk —
what would they say?
Trees are poetry in motion;
they speak in light
in shadow
in whispers on the wind;
sinking down
into the ground
to find the strength within.
Seasons come and
on they go
and yet the tree remains;
changing shape and hue
turning leaf to bloom,
and round the season comes again.
Their limbs embrace
a world without
and keep a world within.
What could we learn
you and I
from trees that grace
the land and skies?
The fashion of stillness,
of deliberate breath?
The grounding of life’s magic
in mystery, even death?
The grace of covering shelter
of homes freely given
of food shared
and food taken?
The patience to wait
out the inevitable storm?
For even in the midst
of such destruction
seeds of new life
are generously sown.
What would the trees teach us
if only we listened?