Her hand broke through the loamy earth so long ago.
The richness of her breath reaches my nostrils
as I lay cradled in the shady ferns.
Her skin is deep and furrowed
Dark brown and damp it plays host to many soft things that like to hide at the edge of sight.
She reaches thick fingers up toward the light that she no longer needs.
Great and ancient is her tongue
but the people no longer hear her voice
For, she speaks no more
Resting
Waiting
To fall.
Reblogged this on Sunnyace Reblog Collections.
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I think her old sap is just becoming a fresh flavor which is proceeding to talk in new ways. The lovely Oaks are rare in my neck of the woods, enjoyed the poem
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That is LOVELY!!
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True.
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Those tree paintings are magnificent. I want them.
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Hi Chicks. I have a serious thing for trees. This is beautiful.
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The artist is amazing! You can get the link on the pics!! I want to use them for a watercolor study!
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Lovely poem and painting but tree huggers be warned – gives you ticks. I was lichen surveying in a woodland in northern England where deer roam and forgot to tuck my t-shirt in. Had to remove about 12 tiny ticks from my middle.
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OH MY!!! I love these paintings – the artist is from deviantart.com! Stay tick free!!
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This is my kind of subject, poem and picture. Lovely.
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Bean’s Pat: Chicks With Ticks http://tinyurl.com/6nlun9e Oaken Earth Mother. Blog Pick of the day selected by this wondering wanderer, tree-hugger. 7-8-12
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