There’s a tree out the front who greets me daily,
And I am so very lucky to have lived behind her
For just shy of a year now.
I remember when we moved here
Our beautiful old house, in suburbia last Spring.
My flatmaes and I before
Cooped up in a dark, dank, two bedroom unit
Where a room was shared; nay, a bed
For six months.
However, not in vain
So we could have another share life with us;
Another, who enriched our lives
A late night thought that cracked the world wide open.
A year is a long time,
For a handful of twenty-somethings.
A drop in the ocean of life that has been,
and lies before us,
And just last week the first spring blossom
On the furitless fruit tree out my window bloomed.
A delicate snowflake of feather like down,
Timidly unfolding to greet the sun.
Early by three weeks this year,
For I remember quite rightly after we shifted on the fourth of Spring last year
It was not for another week that I woke
To the delight of a blossom’s kiss at my window.
It is good to watch a tree move through seasons.
Good for the soul.
Good in a busy, bustling world to rest beside something strong and steadfast.
To watch, as a child, the blossoms grow,
Recalling life’s surprises that catch us off guard
Leaving us in awe of what was laying perhaps
Just beneath our nose.
Good then, to see the wind pick up and the petals fall.
Confetti upon the breeze to colour the ground.
The tenderness of one tree
Scattered about a street and to know
Life too will do the same.
Like a lullaby my Mother used to sing
To a grumpy child with colic who could not,
“The wind in the trees, is the wind no one sees,
except when it blows the leaves,”
And after such wind has come
And shooed blossoms along their brief and fleeting way,
It is good to watch leaves yawn into day.
Green brushstrokes in the thousands
Covering bone like branches
Casting a collage of light and shade all about them.
Unlike blossoms, for months leaves last.
Beaten down on by the sun
Teased to and fro by the wind,
And eventually, after a time,
It is good to watch the leaves change.
Red and orange heralding Autumn’s arrival.
Golden leaves like the dawning sun,
Softer now as our pale blue dot departs
Ever so slightly farther out in orbit.
And once the wind has come again,
In it’s ever unyeilding way,
It is good to watch the leaves be blown
In the same way the blossoms did before.
Following a journey carved out for them
By the gentleness of a flower
Some things so soft they could be crushed by a breath,
Can pave a path for stone.
And once the leaves have blown
And the sun is far,
And the rains have come
And the clouds have made tennancy in the sky
It is good to sit at ones window
And stare at the branches.
That though in appaearance may seem less coy than blossoms
And less virtuous than leaves of green and gold
Have been there all along.
It is so very good to have a tree at ones window.