Dear trees, listen.
How could I choose a single tree,
of all the trees I know and love so well?
I cannot read the bark-runes, have no skill
to scratch in bird-steps the words a tree could read.
Poplars ivy-bound about,
willows hollowed and bowed, sentinel oaks,
the wild white-bloomed plum and apple,
walnut, spindle and blackthorns,
I hear you all when the wind blows,
listen to your counterpoint when the birds sing,
walk gently where saplings shoot,
and stand beneath green canopies that hold up the sky.
Do you even know I am here?
Perhaps a flag would do, a banner,
long as the horizontal clouds,
brush-painted in carmine and flame,
carried by geese and cormorants,
river-bound, ocean-bound.
Perhaps the wind would whisper
what you couldn’t read.
Jane Dougherty
Bio and Links
Jane Dougherty
lives and works in southwest France. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems and stories have been published in magazines and journals including Ogham Stone, the Ekphrastic Review, Black Bough Poetry, ink sweat and tears, Gleam, Nightingale & Sparrow, Green Ink and Brilliant Flash Fiction. She blogs at https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/ Her poetry chapbooks, thicker than water and birds and other feathers were published in October and November 2020.

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