Time is wrapped in moss, bud, lichen.
Gnarled bark holds secrets of years
for a wild tree never tells, its age
cannot be counted in numbers.
Is age the great achievement,
when a birch’s one short century
outdoes an oak’s long five?

Count instead the marvel of trees
in the song of wind and birds
the stretch of roots and leaves
light gifted to air,
slow circling of time
in twist of trunk and branch,
our spirits lifted in their dance.

Harriet wrote this poem following a conversation with National Trust forestry adviser Stuart Palmer, which she writes about in the blog post Does Age Matter?

Advertisements

One thought on “The age of trees

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s