I took this photograph in October — when leaves were still on the tree.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem "The Oak":
Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;
Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.
All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.
and it's a color shot; not easy to see except for the lovely pale blue at the right...nice, AOW.
ReplyDeleteI dug out a stanza from one of my old poems that fits this, I think:
Skeletal and black,
trees are the only things I know
that need less cover
against the cold.
The Oak tree. The tree that endures.
ReplyDelete... Rhymes are made by fools like me,
ReplyDeleteBut only God can make a tree.
~ Joyce Kilmer
Oft in the night
ReplyDeleteI see the shadows of the trees
On my bare chamber walls ––
Silhouettes dancing ––
Dancing in strange and secret rhythm ––
To the restless music of the Wind.
~ FreeThinke (1961)
FT,
DeleteThat one goes so well with the photo! Thank you!
______ BIRCHES _____
ReplyDeleteWhen I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
~ Robert Frost (1874-1963)
... As I looked toward Birnam, anon me thought,
ReplyDeleteThe wood began to move ...
~ Shakespeare - Macbeth
I can never think of that short phrase without getting goose bumps.
Beautiful shot, AOW. I never get tired of taking pictures of trees.
ReplyDeleteOh, I love this perspective. Reminds me of sitting under a good shade tree. Thanks for the nudge, AOW. :-)
ReplyDeleteJen,
DeleteI don't take many photos worthy of posting on the web.
You shold trust your eye more, AOW.
DeleteIt's better developed than you think.
Another tree-related favorite from childhood:
ReplyDeleteHow would you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it's the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
~ Robert Louis Stevenson - A Child's Garden of Verses
hey AOW! HAPPY THANKSGIVING my friend..hugss!!:)
ReplyDeleteFT,
ReplyDeleteSo glad that you stopped by to add more verse!
Frost's "Birches" is a classic, and we always discuss that poem in American Literature class. So much in there!
The leaves will fall.
ReplyDeleteSomething about raking leaves. I find it very peaceful and calming.
Nothing like clearing snow.
What fun...a "Poetry Off!" (like a cook off?!)
ReplyDeletelines from another of mine which Jen reminded me off with her comment:
"Through the pattern of leaves
shimmering above me,
the 2 o'clock sun
made my eyelids
a burnt orange kaleidoscope,
and maple leaf boats floated
in a harbor full of leaves
against the heavy paperblue sky above me"
nothing like laying with a horsehair field of grass on your back and looking up through a tree's leaves.
Z,
DeleteThank you so much for your contributions to this thread. I love original verse! I'm a terrible poet myself.
am putting together a kind of anthology for Christmas presents...I can't believe how much I used to write as I find more and more in my computer files; I don't anymore at all, just cleaning my old stuff up to print.
DeleteTHanks, AOW.....
thanks also for sharing your photo!
_______ The Linden Tree _______
ReplyDeleteBefore the city walls there is a well
A Linden-tree stands there
Many times I've sought its shade
A place of rest and pleasant dreams
When dreaming there I carved
Some words of love upon the bark
Both joy and sorrow
Drew me to that shady spot
But today I must wander
Through this blackest night
In darkness I passed this tree
But couldn't bear to look
I heard the branches rustle
As if they spoke to me
Come to me my old friend
Find peace with me
Cruel winds were blowing
Coldly cutting my face
My hat was blown behind me
I quickly sped on my way
I'm now many miles distant
From that dear old Linden-tree
But I still hear it whisper
"Come -- find peace with me."
~ Wilhelm Mueller (English translation)
From Winterreise (Winter Journey)
Hear it sung by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXBNePEDTEo
There's probably little bugs, that live under that tree, and that view of the sky is the only one they ever know.
ReplyDeleteJMJ
If so, Jersey, we should regard them as very fortunate. ;-)
DeleteYes we should. ;)
DeleteJMJ
What a lovely last hurrah of brilliance your tree must be when you come home in the late fall. I love looking out on my own orange, banana and palm trees. But it's just not the same majesty or milestone of the season.
ReplyDelete___ SNOW HAIKU ___
ReplyDeleteFresh snow at sunset
Trees glistening quietly
In pink and copper tones.
Snow covered branches
Thaw, then turn to crystal lace
Gleaming in sun light.
Melting on the ground
As snow deserts the branches
Black twigs claw the sky.
~ FT (11/23/14)
_____ The Wind and the Leaves _____
ReplyDeleteCome, little leaves, said the wind one day,
Over the meadows with me and play.
Put on your dresses of scarlet and gold,
Summer is gone and the wind grows cold.
As soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew
Singing the soft little sings they knew.
Crickets, good bye we’ve been friends so long.
Little ones, sing us your farewell song;
Say you are sorry to see us go.
Ah! You will miss us, right well we know.
Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we’ve watched you in vale and glade
Say, you will dream of our loving shade/
Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went:
Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep in their earthly beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.
~ Anonymous
My mother used to sing this to me when I was a small boy. As far as i knew, she was the only one who knew it, and then one day -- decades later -- it appeared as the background to a hand-cut silhouette of Christopher Robin playing amidst falling leaves one of my clients gave me out of gratitude for a series of ads I'd created for her Arts & Crafts shop.
It was as though my mother. who ad died of a sudden heart attack ten years earlier were giving me her blessing from beyond the grave. Probably the nicest gift I've ever received.
FT,
DeleteMy mother used to sing this to me...
My mother and grandmother sang the song to me, too. I wonder if the tune was the same as the version you heard. This is the tune that my mother and grandmother used.