. . . . . . . I love you. The wet dips and the dry crests of you. The wild living heart of you. I love every part of you. In spring you grow and deepen and in summer you glow. In autumn I leave you. As I walk away weeping, you rustle and sigh behind me, your extremeties dying. But winter is for sleeping and we have to part for a while. When warmer weather returns you will stretch and grow again. You will protect me and caress my spirit with a floor of flowers. You will welcome me into the depths of you. Again I will walk your verdant paths, and worship beneath your ever expand - ing canopy of green leaves The Daily Post #Tree ©Jane Paterson Basil
as each day fades,
electric specks of yellow
dab across the urban scene,
and pools of synthetic illumination
stain the streets like nicotine.
evening traffic plays follow the leader;
an endless stream of petrol-soaked metal
looking for an escape
from the ever-increasing concrete heaps.
as night spills ink on the greasy river,
and windows, one by one, cease beaming,
I lie in my bed and feel my way to dreamtime;
jumping on a smokescreen bus which speeds me
to a remembered green place far away,
where I can select the weather;
the time of day; my age;
and my company.
I always summon the same details;
sunshine, early evening, seventeen,
and you; king to my falling queen.
we sit beneath an oak tree bent with history;
our secrets hidden in the depths of its tactful trunk.
this year’s leaves discreetly absorb
this rising night’s intimate whispers;
as together we lean,
making believe it is the last time we will meet.
this is my perfect dream,
I will always
The Daily Post #Tree
©Jane Paterson Basil