This is Nature: A Tree Tells


This is Nature: A Tree Tells

I am a tree
Don’t cut me
I cry too
As you do
When hurt,
When burnt.

I give verdure,
Flowers and fruits
Birds chirrup,
Monkeys hoot.
In my bosom
They all dwell.

Epiphytes swirl,
Pollens ride air,
Seeds slyly reveal,
As samara falls,
Boughs heave,
Canopies part,
Ruddy cheeks
Of apples show!
Berries, their rinds
Almonds topping
Your crème are
All my issues.

Sunlit streaks
Illumine the floor
Of the woods,
As life on peat
Awakes to new morn,
While out there,
You frolic
And jump
Around viviparous
Limbs and threads
Of my body,
In dales, coasts,
Valleys and parks.

You trace nuts
And steal from squirrels
As I witness thee.
Bears store honey
In my gaps
While bees
Oh! so many bees
Just colonize
My arms.

My roots spread
From thy neighbor
To neighbor,
From friend to friend.
I web them all
Under your feet
You never know
How I spread.
From friezes,
Around coppices
Founts and sprays
To pendant walls.
Ha!

Unsparing to all
Like hands of granny
I spill germens
Hither and thither,
When shook by gales,
Or some naughty kid
Just shoogles me up,
Plays around,
Climbs like climber,
Or hides behind
In some game,
Under Nature’s decree
I scatter and foal
The soils abound.

You may espy,
From bamboo to algae
My sovereign sway
Unbeknown to bounds
Flourishes in colors
That you love to capture
In your drawing-book,
Next to roosters.

Acorns become trees
Puddles become seas
They may what
They may become,
Yet you must know,
My reign and sway
Under Nature benign
Befriends eternity.

Even when charred
To tinder-boxes,
When fires rage
In my homeland,
Pyrocumulonimbus,
Sepulchral clouds,
Overhang above
Like gigantic fungus,
I thrive to provide
To those in whom,
Immortality resides,
My kids, my critters,
My Worli,
My Waorani.

I burst to buds
In fragrant springs.
Or slough to rustles
When autumn strikes.
Like a disaster
That I now report,
I am bestrewn
Like snowflakes
On frosty nights.

In storms
I bend and incline,
Cosset who nestle
In my cavities.
I keep my promise
To guard them
Who trust me;
As some of my arms
Crack and break,
My leaves transported
Like couriered kisses
Upon vapory air,
From thorp to thorp,
Convey stories
Of kids who adroitly
Leapt upon many
Of my tubers.

Worms and feathered,
Thank me vastly
As winds sigh relief.
Butterflies anxious
For their chrysalis
On leaves,
Hold dearly onto
Their bespeckled homes,
While eggy settlements
Of feathered
And scaly
Aquiver of rains,
Pray to the gods,
And to dear Indra
To remember mercy
While flooded nests
Sail upturned
In grey lakes
Of mud and blood.

All snuggled together
In my lap and warmth,
Stunned to relief.
While some sail away
Like stars in heavens,
Floating athwart
In ancient afterglow
Of Big Bang.
Yet those alive
Still do pray
For those safe
And those gone.

When lightening
Sunders the sky,
Silvery blaze
Under silvery disc
Caparisons me;
Lichens and mosses,
Ferns and fronds
Too tremble.
Yet my compact
To be Nature’s sentry
Is no writ in water.
I function to hilt
Care for all critters,
Like granny, her kids,
I love my litter.

Some of my fellows
Shoot forth wanton
In the faces hard
Like of granite cliffs
Or in declivities
Of igneous provinces.
Some would show
In crannies of old walls,
In libraries and lamaseries,
Or rise like twigs
On roads of civilization
That once flourished.

You may encounter
My fellows as well,
Some old, some inchoate
Encincturing spaces
Like pools in deserts
Where seifs cluster
And zardangs chip,
Or around fens,
Where zephyrs bring
Stories from yonder
And unload them
On the foamy ears
Of mushrooms that glow
Like will’o’wisps.

Like your granny
I unbind tales,
And, like her
I grow old.
As I grow old,
Rings pattern
Making sundry circles
In my trunk.
Your teacher tells
Its dendrochronology.
Tell her so,
An easier word, please,
So the dear tree
Can understand too.

I am a kid too
Sometimes
Just like you,
Yet I added,
A granny’s bank
Of tales and fables
In my encephalon
And now I go
On and on.

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