Sunday, February 17, 2019

Dreaming in Green



I came to ask you
how you have managed 
to endure for millennia,
with humankind
so threatening.
Do you tremble
when you hear
the grapple-yarders
and the saws,
coming ever closer?
(I think you do.)

They rip your roots
out of the ground;
they stick up in the air,
like the wisdom teeth 
of the planet,
being pulled
by madmen
who have forgotten
we all need 
to breathe.

I imagine, much like us,
those peaceful hours when you sleep
are your release.

I imagine, when you dream,
that you still dream in green.




for Magaly's prompt at Real Toads: strange news. The question is do trees sleep at night? I think they do. They are very alive, and must need rest.


15 comments:

  1. I think dreaming in green is a signal of hope

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  2. Dream in green at least. Such a raping.

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  3. "they stick up in the air,
    like the wisdom teeth
    of the planet"

    Wow, Sherry, I love the dreaming in green. So apt.

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  4. Poor trees. When we visit in Louisiana we see a lot of land bared because the trees have all been cut. This is an excellent interview.
    ..

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    1. Oh yes, thank you for using the term "grapple yarders." That was a new word for me, I also found (google) that here are a lot of them for sale.
      ..

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  5. The closing line nearly broke my heart. Sometimes I wonder, if trees begin to weep when the hear the approach of men. Now I'm also wondering if they yearn for deforestation to be just a nightmare trying to steal the green of their lives and dreams.

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  6. Yes, a wonderful poem!!! And yes, I think we all dream in green.

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  7. Those closing lines took my breath away! This is so beautifully poignant, Sherry!❤️

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  8. Such a lovely and sad poem, Sherry. I really enjoyed it though it is certainly very poignant. Hope all is well. k.

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  9. Man and is saw brings such terror to forests. Yes, I do imagine the trees still dream in green.

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  10. Oh, wow! This is so evocative, Sherry. I do hope that the trees still dream in green. 💚

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  11. In my younger, more flexible and agile days, I used to go out into the deep woods for weeks on end, let the forest sing me to sleep every night, no human activity or sound anywhere. I miss that; I love my trees. Thanks for this poem.

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