Sundays are devoted to words in poetry form here at Adulting – Second Half. I write a poem or share a poem that I have found by another author that has deeply touched me. I strongly encourage you to publish your poems in my Comments section, but if you are shy, just jot a few poems down today, in your own private journal. It’s cathartic. I promise you. Here’s my poem for the day.
THE TREES STAND TALLER
Across the lake, lies a jungle of trees.
During the day, all of the life, teeming within the trees, is deceptively quiet.
The trees put on a calm, serene front.
They are tall, green soldiers, standing at guard,
As the lake dutifully reflects the stillness, for which the forest tries to portray.
The trees shade their inner inhabitants, promising them protection,
And respite, from the harsh, depleting rays of the sun.
But when night falls, all comes alive. The sounds are roars.
And though you can’t see anything, you know that the woodland houses
Majestic, wild creatures who can no longer remain quiet nor still.
Their howls are primal. The thicket has come alive with calls and cries.
The intensity and the mystery of it all, pulsates every one of my senses.
Fear and excitement are just different words for the very same sensations,
These sensations that are electrified through me and within me,
As I stare into the darkness of nightfall,
And in my mind, I picture the trees in their usual, reliable spots,
Even though I am not really able to see them, in any shape or form.
I feel wondrous bewilderment and almost reckless abandonment,
Frozen in wonder of the mysteriousness of it all.
When I wake in the morning, and walk into the dewy grass and stare at the trees
Far across the lake, I smile in perplexity. The trees are statues again.
The day sounds are gentle chirps and the whispering of breezes through the leaves,
I half expect a maiden with seven small men to appear, in whistling cheer.
Was my experience with the night, all in my imagination?
Was it all just a vision from the deepest recesses and caverns of my sleepy mind?
Does the night really change everything? Is darkness required to really come alive?
The forest is the same. It is deeply rooted and entwined,
I know that under the dark shade of night, the trees still stand their guard,
In their place of solid sentry, held for centuries.
So why does the forest seem to be such a different place, in the light of day?
My guess is that the trees delight in the aliveness of their inhabitants,
Who only feel safe to come out and play,
Under the cloak of the darkness of shadowy midnight.
Which state of being do the trees prefer? Do they like the stillness of the day?
Or do they prefer the humming, restless mystery of the night?
I think that the forest intrinsically understands that both lightness and dark,
Are necessary for the fullest expression of life.
The trees stay still enough, and quiet enough, and strongly rooted enough,
To fully appreciate and bathe in this intrinsic wisdom,
To just be themselves and to experience all of the complicated states of being,
For their tenure of life on Earth, in their very own spots, in the forest of other trees.
And no matter the time of day or of night,
The trees stand taller, reaching for the Heavens, grateful for the wisdom of this truth.