Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road.
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This Oak tree is a part of my daily life. I have observed this tree through all four seasons now. As I walk my familiar loop the road dips down to a row of houses encroaching on the canyon below. Trees and houses co-habit. My Oak is naked now; the last leaves relinquished their hold weeks ago and the teasing wind twirled them diagonally to the ground. The acorns plunged en masse on to the roof of the house; celebrating their freedom with a startling rat-tat-tat.
I pass beneath the branches and find myself looking up and marveling at the sculptural silouhette against the sky.
Ah, a fellow poet with horse in her blood. Thanks for dropping by my blog. Now that I've found you, I will visit often.
ReplyDeleteLove the oak imagery, especially the "rat a tat" on the roof. There is nothing I like more than finding the right words to express a thought, image, sensation, or memory.
So just where is your pony? ("Effing" omitted.) *G*
Sorry, make that "rat tat tat." That'll teach me to have my literary reference in visual access for proper critique...whatever that means, but it sounds good. *lol*
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment, Jean. I am working through understanding why my life is so far from my horsey roots and how to find my way back. Luckily life is not over, change is still possible. I rode at local stables this morning. I can feel a blog coming on but I have a business lunch and year-end book-keeping to handle first.
ReplyDeleteNever give up!
Re: Poetry, check my early blog about Worthy Words and daffodils. You and I are in tune.