The Language Of Trees ---by Man Of Asgard

The Language Of The Trees


Do you think a tree has memories?
If so, what might they be?
Beneath their spreading limbs
Do they recall things done by me?
Do they hear conversations,
Understand the things we say?
Remember secrets whispered,
Or the games I used to play?
When I climb up in their branches
Do trees know I am there?
When I carve names in their bark
Does it hurt or do they care?
When birds come and build their nests
Out of maiden grass and weeds,
When I build a sturdy tree house
filled with all the things boys need,
I just can't help but wonder
If a tree knows what we've done,
If so, what is it thinking?
Is it also having fun?
A tree seems like a friend to me
Who watches all we do.
But never seems to judge us
While we try to work it through.
It watches the mistakes I make
Like they are just a game.
Its silence waits for me to win,
Learn who I really am.
Its branches make a home for all,
The insect, bird and frog
Sheltered in its citadel
Towering in the bog.
To the Oak tree in the meadow
I once ran off and hid.
Did it hear me cry my heart out?
Did it know what I did?
And when I stayed all night there
Did my tears all go unheard?
Was it shocked, did it get angry
When it heard my first bad word?
Will trees keep all our secrets
If they recall what we do?
Or will they shout to the wind
I once carved how I love you?
I think the trees are speaking
When they rattle in the breeze.
I think I almost understand
The language of the trees.
Each leaf is a page in a book,
A story to be told,
Which falls to earth at autumn's end
To sleep through winter's cold.
And all their secret stories
Written in gold and brown
Make up the dreams of winter nights
When Sandman makes his rounds.
So if a tree does carry memories
Of the unseen life we live
And if it will keep our secrets. . .
Can a tree also forgive?

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