A window with a view
coveted prize
a break in routine
rest for our eyes
a tree with some posies
quiets day’s din
but sometimes can startle
by looking back in.
We’ve looked back and forth
Crabapple and I
exchanging world views
in the year that’s gone by.
It’s given the kitchen
a leafy embrace
and made my new house
a cozier place.
Lichened old faithful
steadfast and seasoned
shading me from
a world all unreasoned.
There’ve been times in my life
I’ve known a kind tree
that seemed like kin
and companion to me.
Perhaps you, dear reader,
understand what I mean
and also have had
a friend that is green.
When I moved in here, almost a year ago, I knew that two trees would have to come down. This crabapple is one of them. Now the arrangements are made, and I can’t help the sadness. It’s been so pretty, wrapping around my little bay window. This place is still not home to me, and the crabapple has seemed to know that. I will miss it.
September 27, 2018 at 5:43 pm
This is lovely, and terribly sad.
September 27, 2018 at 8:57 pm
You would understand, Shirah! Thanks.
September 27, 2018 at 6:01 pm
A tree has a personality. We’ve taken three down since moving here, and I never ever walk by without remembering what they looked like. The tree I loved the best was a willow in KS. I planted six or eight and one lived. He was huge, and provided amazing shade and comfort. I buried my favorite dog under my favorite tree. I don’t know if either one are still where they were, but they are in my memories. You will miss that tree, of that I have no doubt.
September 27, 2018 at 9:01 pm
Oh, heavens! A favorite dog under a favorite tree? There is such a thing as sacred ground, and that would be one instance of it. I absolutely understand how a willow tree would be a favorite; there was a very significant willow tree in my growing-up years, and sometimes I wish I could talk to it again.
September 29, 2018 at 4:34 pm
I’m sure you have a good reason to take it out. I’m glad it was around to help you settle in. You reminded me of a pet tree I had as a child. It was a sycamore tree I grew from seed in a pot. My Dad knew what it was destined to become and remonstrated with me, not that I paid any heed. I have a vague feeling I was persuaded to set it free in a wood, but remember making a good old childish song and dance when we disagreed about aspects of its care.
September 29, 2018 at 4:46 pm
What a wonderful concept: a pet tree! That would make a wonderful children’s book! And what more noble matter for a difference of opinion between father and daughter?
September 29, 2018 at 5:16 pm
Well, I suppose it could have been worse. He eventually got fed up of advising me it was going to grow too tall and stumped it off at the top when I was not looking. He had no doubt encouraged me to plant it, not anticipating I would then want to grow it.
September 29, 2018 at 5:42 pm
Oh, dear. When you have to look at part of your history and say “it could have been worse,” you know it was significant. Your poor tree!