Thoughts on Orlando's "Oak Tree"

A ventilated parchment, that's for sure!
Three hundred years of palimpsesting,
Scraping, erasing, and intercalation,
And what has she got to show for it?
A rag of a treatise, a wadded score,
A jumble of notes in no known key,
A reflecting pool of her own life.
This oak tree--not cherry not plum not locust--
Overshaded the axis of her years,
Spun with the seasons and her whims,
Though nothing much happened, and time seemed to crawl,
Yet ages hastened as if called away
To attend a wedding or set a bone.
Orlando, Orlando . . . Write no more!
Chop down that titan, hew it to planks,
And hire some shipwrights to build you an ark,
Wherein you may stow your alternate selves,
With cubbies for these and compartments for those,
So all may ramify free of encumbrance,
To throng and thrive for eons to come.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

I have a real affinity with trees, so this poem appealed to me. The felling of a three hundred year old oak tree, a tragedy of sorts , but that's because I am sentimental. I would be thinking of everything that tree was able to oversee in three centuries. At least the wood could be used to build an ark, so something good would be produced. Nothing can replace the beauty of a tree like that on show for everyone to admire and for wildlife to enjoy. Thank you for allowing my mind to wander. Pleased to visit Wilyem.

Chris