OK 1902
My father said a tree
Is fifty years growing,
Fifty years living
Fifty years dying.
OK 1902 it said, and it must have been big enough then
to carve on
Big enough to rest the heel of a hand long gone.
These hundred and four years it has been OK
Until today. It lies in pieces in the duff
Broken beneath the lowest living branch.
This is how you find things in the forest.
Oh.
Is it dead now?
Will its roots go on?
The top came down, snapped the trunk of the tree beside it
A healthy tree, no heartrot there
but dead now, too.
Or: alive at the root.
Where trees are concerned
The exact time of death
is hard to figure.
It is perhaps the point
at which they can't grow back.
posted by Julie Zickefoose @ 8:22 PM
12 comments
12 Comments:
I especially liked this post. Thanx!
Please fill in the details of this tree. When did you first see it? Has it had any leaves in recent years? It's always sad to see an old tree fall. It's also dramatic. Crack!!! Snap!!! Bam!!!
Lovely poem, Julie.
We've loved this huge old beech for 14 years, ever since we found it on one of our first walks on our land, and Bill found the carving in its trunk. It had leaves last season, off the big branch that's in the third picture, and twigs on that branch were well budded when I found its carcass two days ago. Now that it's cracked off below that branch, there are no branches left to leaf out. It's hollow, like all old beeches seem to be. I don't know what it can do at this point--sprout from the roots? And as I wrote in the poem--I know it's still alive, but it seems to me that, tree or human, one needs to grow to truly live.
Damn.
What a post!
I feel so incredibly honored that NBB and I had a chance to see it last spring.
Excellent post.
On a different topic...Julie, I was blessed today when I pulled out two copies of 'Eden' to wrap for my mother and a dear friend of mine. It gives me great joy to give them such a beautiful Christmas gift. Thank you for creating something so lovely and true.
Beautiful post, Julie. We can always hope that little leaves will sprout from the stump in the spring.
Hey--my verification letters were
OKigyz--that's a good sign!
Oh, the tales this tree could tel: Who was OK and why was he doing that to me? Why did the loggers leave me when they took all my friends time after time? Did they find me ugly? Who is that furry thing climbing up inside me? What happened to those birds that nested in my branches? Who are those nice people with the funny little dog? Why am I feeling so weak? I think I'll sleep now.
Bawwwww. Mojo. There's nothing like killing a bottle of Pinot in the tower room to make a girl sentimental.
requiem for a fallen friend. Sad.
maybe some young lovers carved the date in the tree. Strange to think so many may have trod your land.
I like Mojoman's synopsis.
Merry Christmas to the Thompson/Zickefoose Clan
I heard your story on NPR today... thanks for sharing
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