Tag Archives: trees

tree song

needles on each dancing branch

pull keening sounds from the wind

singing regrets that they can’t fly

like empty exiles

doomed to restlessness

each sound a friction

between immovable and unstoppable

wistful and beautiful

as silhouettes of trees against the night

rooted into place

but longing to take flight

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

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against the current

traveling against the current

against tide travelers

gliding up and out on slick ribbons

pulled into dark forests

where green marries black

 

here, a stream shakes life into the air

with each slap of battered fighters

broaching destinies while gulls consider

their next course

 

traveling against clocks

traveling elliptically

even traveling when we arrive

until it’s all fluid

sliding tumbled into tomorrow

yesterdays lie scattered on banks and riverbottoms

 

trees, not quite full frontal

wear mossy leggings and use ferns as pasties

trailing natty beards weirdly mist woven

ferns dictating understories into vanishing ravines

reading secret landscapes from sacred scores

 

traveling fast slowly

against currents

against granite

against predation

into natural inclusion

into natural solutions

traveling against the current

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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haiku – November 2

wind revealed

dancing leaves swirl

others stay attached

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

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Trees

there were years when

climbing trees

was it

branch to branch

above it all

puzzling my way

to where birds felt at home

every tree I saw

assessed for climbability

testing assumptions

I became acquainted with bark

moss, lichens

and the emptiness of the sky

waiting for a sharp crack

of lightning

 

 

David Trudel     © 2013

 

 

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Cottonwoods

Floating pearl drops fill the air

Cottonwood orgasms released on the wind

Flurried fecundity

I try not to inhale

Walking through clouds of dancing potential

These are thirsty trees

That belly up when the doors open

Reaching new highs every day

As interested in drinking and sex as most bar room patrons

And like them a little soft

Their wood isn’t prized for much

They tend to fall over when cold winds roar

To be replaced by next year’s crop

Who look to be about the same

Getting high and drinking as much as they can

Then spilling their seed

Unconcerned about conversations or relationships

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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Leaves

Leaves unfurling like a thousand green spinnakers

Catching the wind

Each leaf its own tale

I read these trees

Through fresh green pages

Like reading the whispers of others

In this consequence of narrative

Where each tale is separate but connected

Like each green flag is anchored on branches

I hear each murmur that comes my way

Each note and comment adds to the story

That I piece together organically

So that even as I revel in today’s fresh green garments

I read foreshadowings of rusty autumn in the wind

When these solitary voices will be stripped away

And nobody will remember spring’s tale

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Primal

We used to howl in the forest

Primal screams resounding through muffled groves

Always a little restrained though

Never quite agonized enough

Knowing that we didn’t fit the profile

But liking the release

Echoing misinterpretations of gestalt therapy

To justify the caterwauls

Being there, then

Now, burdened by my own cruel truths

A bottomless bellow might be cathartic

But the tranquility of a forest

Brings its own grace notes to my listening heart

So I simply listen and bow my head

To the murmur of the trees instead

 

David Trudel  ©  2012

 

 

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