Black spruce sentry

A century-old sentry, 
I've stood vigilant
at the river's edge.
A surveyor of nature's glory:
the glisten of crisp ice
and snowmelt that pools
at my roots,
the flicker of the moon's
warm glow scampering
across my branches,
smoother than the bold
stare of summer's sunrays,
or the wind that stirs needles and flowers culled from my shadows by deer and hare, or the eddies that scurry and spin today, then change direction tomorrow

I wrote this poem for the W3 prompt at the Skeptic’s Kaddish. This week’s prompt comes from Heather, who asks us to consider the following:

“Humans often have opinions on most any topic. Let’s put a twist on this. Employ personification to write a poem from the point of view of an object. Maybe your teapot has an opinion on how you make tea or your door with all the comings and goings? Maybe snow has something to say? Be creative and have fun!’

I can’t help but think that trees would have a lot to say. Would they speak slowly and carefully, like Tolkien’s ents, or would they ramble, eager to finally catch someone’s ear? There’s a surprising amount of folklore regarding talking trees. Maybe we do need to sit down and listen. 😉

25 thoughts on “Black spruce sentry

  1. I like the Black Spruce’s matter of fact attitude. I’m in agreement with you, trees have much to say. Have you read The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate by Peter Wohlleben? It may be of interest.

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