Tree Love

We have to love our apricot tree,
and love it extra hard in winter.
 
That’s when we have to love its brain
pulsing with synaptic sparrows,
 
love its coursing veins and arteries
x-rayed against the retinal sky.

We have to love it for braving it out
when dripping wet and aching cold,
 
love it for defiantly sleeping rough,
for not coming in at night, not even
 
when bent with snow or gnawed by frost.
We even have to love it for making do
 
with sorry scraps of slimy slough
scavenging worms have chewed and shat.
 
And we have to love it, too, in spring,
when our unconditional love
 
is returned with sprigs of bridal blossoms,
a Derby Day hat plumed in glistening green,
 
and, if we’ve really loved it hard enough,

a grinning pride of cherub-bottomed babes.

.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

I am a tree lover too. There is some beautiful poetic expression in your lines. This is an excellent read. Personifying your tree worked for me.

Chris

[Gerald Parker]

Pleased you liked it.