while we
let the sun kiss our skin
we watched the sky
through the leaves
and talked
about the weight of the world
which is laying on the shoulders
of our generation

it's been so long since....
oh, how I long for the those days
swinging in the tree
hanging upside down on that big branch
waiting for the sun to go down so hide and go seek was more challenging
skateboarding with friends and riding our bikes for hours and hours
marbles were the rage and the Boulders were worth some attention
falling down and scraping our knees, shaking it off till we got home
spinning around so fast and furious that you got too dizzy and fell down
oh how I long for those days....
has it really been so looooooong?

Brian Hill - 2020 # 149

A tree to me:
A swaying palm, towering oak, a yew.
But what for you?
Some weeping willow,
Or a monkey puzzle tree?

My sweeping plains,
Lush meadows, in my mind's eye.
For you -
A dusty desert under a sun-seared sky?

My visions are reshaped
By every different viewer,
From paradise-landscapes,
To something from the sewer.

Paul Butters

© Paul Butters

Four men from the break of dawn
With axe, hacksaw and *****,
Back and forth swaying their head,
And with their mighty brawn
Were hacking down a giant factory
That took small space on earth
Nurtured by air, water, soil from its birth,
Finally it was razed with great victory.
It was a factory which produced oxygen
That could not be gauged by men.
It provided food and shelter
To many creatures without ever to falter.
Without asking for anyone's labour
To them it did unconditional favour.

After a few days came there many men
To build another giant factory again.
They with great vigour cleared the sod
Built a factory with bricks and iron rod.
It was a factory that took over large area,
Workers feared diseases in their trachea
For it ceaselessly vomited black smoke;
By its noise neighbours to their horror awoke.

Where life exists
You often find a carpet
Of grass or moss or whatever.
And in sacred groves and forests
You will find
The tree.

The tree: nature’s skyscraper,
Deep roots, hard bark and leafy canopy:
Linking the Underworld to The Heavens.
Looming beauty my words can but strive
To describe.

A tree can live for many an age,
Legends about it, even longer.
Since ancient times the tree has been revered.
The Norse People had Yggdrasil:
A cosmic tree linking many worlds.
Comprehend the Eastern Indian Kalpavriksha –
A jewel of a wish fulfilling tree.
The Peace Tree of the American Iroquois,
And many more.

In West Africa the Oubangui People plant a tree
Whenever a child is born.
The Bible tells of the Tree of Life
And the Tree of Knowledge
Growing there
In The Garden of Eden.

Bow to the Tree Goddess.
Bow to The Tree
Bow to its sturdy bough.

Our tree is home
To many a creature
Nymphs and Dryads too
Maybe.

A skyscraper indeed,
Full of life
Safe in its shade
Some behind walls
Of solid wood.

We lose ourselves
Just looking
At that tangle
Of twisting branches
Spiny twigs and clouds of leaves.
Will it stoop over
And pick us up
With its enormous
Hands?

Or will it just keep playing us
A lullaby
With that whistling wind?  

Oh Tree,
You show such grandeur,
Goddess-like indeed:
Shaken by gales
Yet not disturbed
We trust.

Long Live The Tree –
Even giving us
The air we breathe.
Let your branches spread
While you reach ever upward –
A towering spire.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\5\2020. With due credit to Wikipedia.

Brisk bones bend in the wind,
           as frail memories
fall beneath me.

Every one in a moment of decay.

No longer apart of me,

  but a skeleton figure

                         of a past,
brighter and full of life.