The caress

Hi everyone,

Some of you may remember early in the spring when I posted a picture of two hackberry trees on our back yard that have been growing closer to touching with their outstretched limbs.

The Caress

Once they were sprouts,
slender shoots, shapeless limbs,
fragile roots tentatively probing the dark
for stamina to make it through the winter.

It took years of seasons
to grow confidence,
siphon strength from soil,
thicken limbs, broaden leaves,
years more to sense
the presence of a neighbor,
each seeking the same sun.

Decades pass, leave their rings,
birds without number
rest on their branches,
raise their young.
Storms throw their fury,
ice breaks limbs,
roots dig deeper,
trunks show the girth of mid-age.

Two trees aging side by side
as friends, or lovers, might,
if trees knew of such human imbuement’s.
And with each season fingers of their limbs
reach out as if longing to touch, to clasp,
to consummate the prophesy
of a lifetime.

The moment comes.
Their leaves meet,
seem to caress.
Humans viewing the moment
read into the natural act what they will.

(c) by David L. Harrison

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