Tall Tree so ancient old.
I have looked upon you ten years and more
and called you
Your nooks and crannies
your winding wide branches
have held and enfolded
ten thousand crows if not twenty.
I have heard their loud choruses
speak many tongues and make noise a-plenty
on many an early Sunday morn.
You ground me as I gaze out upon
your steadfast self.
You are a Gentle Giant,
a sentry pitting its tenacious roots and trunk
against time itself.
Mortals slip by unaware and
whiz past in their speeding cars,
not noticing the Giant that you are
towering in my heart.
Each year they spike you and your neighbors
with a kind of pill,
that keeps you all strong and
standing proudly still.
Old Elm I hope you will be always here,
yet I cannot help wonder what may happen,
if developer or disease might strike...
both, of which, are evils of the like...
Yes, this corner would be changed forever.
Who would house the thousands of crows?
Who would be my barometer for the changing weather?
Looking out I see you are the last to cast
your amber glow
down to the ground.
Each time the East Gorge wind blows
a golden shower of leafy coins are thrown
into the raw crisp air and are scattered in my heart,
at my feet.
And no Summer would ever exist
without the pale green bursting bud-like mist
that explodes in Spring and blooms into a thousand variegated greens.
When my window lies open wide at night,
I hear the wind whispering through your leaves
and it has often been this sighing that has let me know
it is alright to go to sleep,
because of you, my Gentle Growing Giant across the street.
Tallest of the Tall Trees
I will miss You when I move away.
I will carry my memory of you
And every time I want to invoke your perfect view,
I will close my eyes and create an imaginary frame
and within this frame will be
The Tallest of the Tall Trees.
Giant, I will make a shrine for thee.
Copyright December 17, 2011 All Rights Reserved By the Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo of Tilt-a-World