Poem: Timber Monologue

— by Margie Doyle —

Reprinted upon request for all the trees that have been felled this autumn.

The trees are saying
“Look — look at me

The wind and rain
And weight of winter
Make me sturdy
and spiny to touch

I stand tall and watch
All you human mortals
To you, life means work
And you bend to obey

So busy there growing
So busy there dying
But how many like me
Gaze up at the sky?

To grow in one place
I stretch up, my arms outward
My grandfathers gaze
Far away to the hills

I never rush
Past the stress of the minute
I cry as the tree cries
Whenever it rains

I whisper the secret
of only the present
But sometimes at night
I can kiss a far star.”