PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

For years on my morning walks I tried unsuccessfully to have a conversation with the trees.

Wondering all these years why they would not talk with me.

I asked them simple questions like:

Are you ever jealous of the butterflies or the bees?

Have you ever felt superior and looked down on the weaker, smaller trees?

I asked them as they stood in the same place every day:

Do you ever want to move around…to sing or dance or play?

I asked them this question…which I now know the trees thought quite odd:

Do all the different trees pray to different Gods?

Have you ever been at war with one another”

Are there any trees you fear?

Through the years all my questions have fallen on deaf ears.

Until the other morning when my mind made this suggestion:

Perhaps the reason they never talk to me is…I’ve been asking the wrong questions!

Jealously, prejudiced, God, war, fear…

These are the words of which my questions all consist.

I was using words and concepts that in the language of the trees do not exist.

Now when I say good morning and give a hug to any tree

I find with this simple gesture they’re happy to talk to me.

We talk a lot about nature. I ask them about all the things they love,

I’m always interested in what it’s like to see the world from up above.

They’ve helped me identify the birds, the flowers the stars 

and all the different voices of nature that surround them.

And every tree is happy to introduce me to

all the different trees around them.

I’ve discovered trees are great conversationalists

as I stand amidst their friends and flowers….

and I’ve come to wish the words that do not exist in the language of the trees…

did not exist in ours.

Today we traveled from Bayfield, Wisconsin to Bark River, Michigan

We are staying at a beautiful cabin by the lake….

The 200 mile drive went smoothly…except for one slight navigational mistake.

We planned to stop at this 52 foot. statue of Hiawatha 

In Iron River…where…since 1964 he has stood.

In my defense…not knowing Michigan 

it’s easy to mix up Iron River…with the similar sounding Ironwood.

So…when we reached Iron River and Deborah read about the statue

I was half right …Hiawatha is his name

but he stands in the town of Ironwood…100 miles back the way we came.

So much for Hiawatha…and my map reading expertise…

but we forgot all about him when we reached our cabin…

nestled among white cedar trees.

We learned from Walt, the owner of our cabin, 

as we felt a cool Lake Michigan breeze…

how, to the Native Americans, white cedars are considered sacred trees.

In his front yard we listened…surrounded by a wide array of flowers 

while Walt told us how they believe the white cedars are imbued with healing powers.

How passed down from their ancestors…were legends such as these…

that there are protective spirits hidden in these trees.

He encouraged us to hug these trees… so we could feel their power too

which of course the two of us were more than willing and happy to do.

The white cedars are also called the tree of life…

because…lasting through the summer heat and the winter cold….

some white cedars standing today…are well over 1000 years old.

If we had to miss a 52 foot Hiawatha…by taking the wrong route

landing in thicket of 50 foot tall white cedar was a wonderful substitute

Stories such as these…like the one you have just heard…

prove once again how life is…and always will be…such a beautiful word.

If we want our future t generations 

to enjoy the birds as they sing their morning songs

then we should be planting trees wherever we go…

because the more trees we plant today

the more birds will make their nests in them

so new birds can sing their morning songs 

tomorrow.