If The Trees Could Talk

If the trees could talk, I imagine that one might invite me over to rest in it's shadow and speak to me about a simpler time when fewer men rushed by in haste. Some days are so increadibly beautiful, so unusually perfect that they take my breath away. On those days I try to take a long walk around the lake and soak it in as if I will never return. I explore like being a child again. If the trees could talk, I would take pause on such a day as this, to listen and linger without a care in the world. (photo by: Mr. Besilly)

Click here for a virtual walk through the forest

Comments

[eddie]

Several years ago I took a winter trip. Road trip down the west coast... top to bottom. Bellingham to Bakersfield in twenty four hours towing the 'caravan' we bought from the Scottish couple who'd grown to old to travel that way.
Made a left at Bakersfield and headed east. Traveled thru Arkansas after an ice storm,
miles and miles of glistening crystaline trees... too cold to talk they were.
Ended up in North Carolina.Went to see my girl's land in Murphy which is just down the road from the Joyce Kilmer Hickory Forest. A National Park I believe it was.
Of course the Park was at some little altitude, and when we arrived we found snow on the ground. Off we set on the hilly trail to Mr. Kilmer's monument.A large grey and green rock with a plaque afixed to it amongst a random scattering of tall, dark and brittle trees.
His profiled bust, burnished by weather and time looked resolute in his WWI uniform and helmet.
There lay his countenace in effigy,rapt in a timeless dialogue with
his everpresent chapel of friends. Brown grey and leafless in the cold snow, like so many old ghosts raining down frozen syllables in the wind.
His reply rustled in fallen leaves.
...I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.