I love trees more than I am able to express. I almost did not read this, a carpenter, an artist no doubt, but a carpenter in the woods made me cringe a bit. I am so happy that I did. I never thought I would ever say this, but you have honored one of the creatures that I love most in this world. Such a gentle touch. Beautiful, Thank you.
Thank you so much for the lovely comment Bliss. I have a deeply felt affinity to trees from my earliest memories. I admit to have taken down a great many trees and for that I have real sorrow.
This is absolutely beautifully written. Every tree has its nuance. Winds rustling through the trees is my favorite especially before a storm. Then after the rain their colors have magnified.
Up here in these Rocky Mountains covered in pines with the wind almost constantly among them. As I write this I can hear it shifting around the tops of the trees. Thanks Monica.
Love this Weston. I have just written a post about trees too, not as poetic as yours but a worshipping of them nonetheless. Do you and your son live in the cabin in the trees? I'm just building cabins in the mountains of NZ for me and my children. 💛
Thanks Jo and we do, along with my wife Laurita. What sort of cabin are you building in NZ? Our cabin started out as a 20’x30’ but got 2x bigger since moving here in 2015.
sounds beautiful Weston. I am setting up a tiny house on wheels - 7.4 long x 3.2 w and 4.2 high with two sep 3x4 ish cabins for each of my kids who still come home 5 months of the year from University. 🥰
I love this so much that when I first read it earlier I left to come back when I could truly enjoy it.
You are something. All poets are song writers and artists I know, but this is Art. I think your Mom may have been sitting next to you when you wrote this one.
It is more often the case that I write this stuff down and the form takes its shape. I am not often really in the driver's seat. The trick is to remain true to what the poem is trying to say and keep out of his/her way.
I have two sons and poems are similar in a way. I look upon my poems like children. I realize that I made them but they have their own minds and all I did was bring them into this world. Now I must step back, leave them alone and let them make their own way in the world. Stand on their own feet, so to speak.
I totally love this. Trees are indeed perfect, that's all there is to it. Inspired words. And I'm reminded of northern New Mexico. Thank you.
and that is all there is to it. You said it. They are majestic wonderful creatures, every one. Thanks Jessica.
I love trees more than I am able to express. I almost did not read this, a carpenter, an artist no doubt, but a carpenter in the woods made me cringe a bit. I am so happy that I did. I never thought I would ever say this, but you have honored one of the creatures that I love most in this world. Such a gentle touch. Beautiful, Thank you.
Thank you so much for the lovely comment Bliss. I have a deeply felt affinity to trees from my earliest memories. I admit to have taken down a great many trees and for that I have real sorrow.
Bliss, Since you and I are both very fond of trees I thought you might want you to look at these poems about trees if you have any interest. Wes
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/the-sugar-maple
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/between-two-trees
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/the-cypress-tree
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/the-birch-tree
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/hemlocks
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/the-fig-tree
psst. Bliss, can you read https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/rose-of-all-roses
and tell me what you think of it. Wes
This is absolutely beautifully written. Every tree has its nuance. Winds rustling through the trees is my favorite especially before a storm. Then after the rain their colors have magnified.
Up here in these Rocky Mountains covered in pines with the wind almost constantly among them. As I write this I can hear it shifting around the tops of the trees. Thanks Monica.
Love this Weston. I have just written a post about trees too, not as poetic as yours but a worshipping of them nonetheless. Do you and your son live in the cabin in the trees? I'm just building cabins in the mountains of NZ for me and my children. 💛
Can you send me a link to your tree post?
https://josundberg.substack.com/p/trees
Thanks Jo and we do, along with my wife Laurita. What sort of cabin are you building in NZ? Our cabin started out as a 20’x30’ but got 2x bigger since moving here in 2015.
sounds beautiful Weston. I am setting up a tiny house on wheels - 7.4 long x 3.2 w and 4.2 high with two sep 3x4 ish cabins for each of my kids who still come home 5 months of the year from University. 🥰
Very good. Are you handy with tools? or your kids?
No! But learning. Having help from qualified carpenters to create the set up. 😊
Thanks for grooming those sweet buttery trees.
and thank you for reading, A.A.
You’re welcome
You might be related to A.A. Milne. 😉
How’d you know?
Maybe because of the A.A.? Lame humor.
Wonderful poem. Thanks for sharing.
Good morning Frederick and thanks for reading.
I love this so much that when I first read it earlier I left to come back when I could truly enjoy it.
You are something. All poets are song writers and artists I know, but this is Art. I think your Mom may have been sitting next to you when you wrote this one.
I think she would have liked it and thank you for the kind words. She seems to be all around me these days.
Keeping you company while Laurie’s away, παιδί μου.
I remember the Greeks summoning me over with their hands waving down and saying, "Ella tho, pedaikimou, ella, tora."
That’s a good image and then add in the welcome, pretty cool.
I always think rhymes and meter elevate a poem, especially when you are trying to capture the "majesty" of a tree. Thanks.
It is more often the case that I write this stuff down and the form takes its shape. I am not often really in the driver's seat. The trick is to remain true to what the poem is trying to say and keep out of his/her way.
I have two sons and poems are similar in a way. I look upon my poems like children. I realize that I made them but they have their own minds and all I did was bring them into this world. Now I must step back, leave them alone and let them make their own way in the world. Stand on their own feet, so to speak.