Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2023
I watch the rush of our trees,
their impatience,
their hurry ignoring seasons
running full pelt at growth
and fast forwarding their budding,
their fruit bearing,
in good time to take advantage
of the recent resurgence in the 5-a-day.

I watch and blink.
Reading Rainer Maria Rilke, from 'Letters to a young poet.'
Our tree "does not hurry the flow of its sap and stands at ease in the spring gales without fearing that no summer may follow...."
Steve Page
Written by
Steve Page  61/M/London, U.K.
(61/M/London, U.K.)   
625
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems