{"id":6850,"date":"2019-10-02T09:43:53","date_gmt":"2019-10-02T14:43:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/?p=6850"},"modified":"2019-10-02T09:43:53","modified_gmt":"2019-10-02T14:43:53","slug":"tree","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/2019\/10\/02\/tree\/","title":{"rendered":"Tree"},"content":{"rendered":"

A tree stands tall, bending slightly over as the top gets higher.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It must be afraid to touch the sky. Or perhaps it wants to provide more shelter for when the clouds cry.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe the tree is sad, for the short nubs imply some arms were cut off.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Is that why it hunches forward- its taken limbs lead it to despair?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Or could it be slouched because it finds the fact of being taken for granted unfair?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Whatever the reason, it is too unmotivated – too distraught to clean<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0its wide trunk of the spotting moss that is turning white when it once was green.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The moss\u2019s color is fading, but the amount is growing<\/span><\/p>\n

And now the tree must be sad because it’s true age is showing.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Beyond the thin rings being added inside the thick wood that the eye can not see<\/span><\/p>\n

More wrinkles and cracks appear in its bark giving the fear of growing old a guarantee.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The thick, strong roots are embedded in the dirt beneath it<\/span><\/p>\n

And ashamed of them, the tree tries to hide them in the ground…\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

where it thinks, <\/span>it thinks<\/span><\/i> they can not be found.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It wants to look independent, it does not want to rely on anything to hold it up-<\/span><\/p>\n

Yet the part of the roots that show give away it’s weakness, although they may be short,\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The fact that it can not stand without their unwanted support.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Thousands and hundreds of colorful small leaves\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hang on the branches in light shades of green.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They shine in the sun and capture the light on each of their surfaces<\/span><\/p>\n

I place my hand on the rocky skin of the tree from the shade, was tinted dark<\/span><\/p>\n

And feel the warmth of the absorbed sun in the gray bark\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And the hundred limbs branching out above me bring a cool shade\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

along with the rest of the earth the tree has decided to lean over as it stands on display.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

-an ekphrastic piece I wrote based off a tree at msa.<\/p>\n

Ever since I was little, I’ve found beauty in nature so easily and have given it human characteristics. When I would climb trees as a child, my small hands would grip a small branch not strong enough to hold my whole 40 lbs of weight and would snap off and fall far to the ground. I would apologize to the tree with genuine remorse and pat its rough trunk as to comfort it, then I would continue to climb.<\/p>\n

This poem came naturally, as I have always been able to look at a living thing and assigned it an emotion and personality. I related it to an elderly person- when they get to the stage of self recognition concerning their feeble state, but take no responsibility for the necessary dependence they need. They want to maintain the independence they lose with age and not admit that they need support. Yet with the lack of youth, there is a great sense of wisdom, strength, and unappreciated beauty. With growth comes experience, and experience is admirable- whether it is found\u00a0 in people, or nature.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A tree stands tall, bending slightly over as the top gets higher.\u00a0 It must be afraid to touch the sky. Or perhaps it wants to provide more shelter for when the clouds cry.\u00a0 Maybe the tree is sad, for the short nubs imply some arms were cut off.\u00a0 Is that why it hunches forward- its … Continue reading “Tree”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":52,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6850"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/52"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6850"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6850\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6901,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6850\/revisions\/6901"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6850"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6850"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6850"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}