Of all the things upon this Earth that are deserving of respect, in my eyes, our green and growing brothers place first next to the Earth herself. It is they who absorb the nutrients of the earth to share among us who walk upon her. They filter the water we drink and feed from the carbon dioxide we exhale to return good oxygen for us to breath. They are a perfect example of the continuum's mystic circle. Thus they deserve all the respect and adoration we, who are so dependent upon them, can conceive.
It is with this in mind that I dedicate this page and these few poems.
A WALK IN THE FOREST
Walking in the forest with quiet respectful feet, I smile a silent greeting to each flower that I meet.
I nod my silent greetings to each and every tree, reaching out to touch them as respectful as can be.
I close my eyes and listen to every rustling leaf, forgetting all my worldly sadness, woes and grief.
Watching every step I take, I stop upon the trail, just to watch the crossing of a slowly moving snail.
Time loses meaning here, its either light or dark, and I while away man made time, happy as a lark.
When I meet brother creatures, be it bird or deer, I fill my thoughts with love, just to calm their fear.
For my hands carry not bow and arrow, or knife, my presence here is for seeking, not for taking life.
Silent spirits guide my path to the sacred ground, where, forgotten, rock and dirt form a burial mound.
I know not who lies there, that is not my affair, as I sprinkle my tobacco and offer up fervent prayer.
Whenever I pass this way, I'll take the time to care, thanking an unknown soul whose forest I now share.
And when the shadows deepen, I won't walk alone, as I make my reluctant way, from the woods to home.
Blue Turtle
A TRIBUTE TO IMPERFECTION
How many times have you entered a woods and said,"Oh what a beautiful woods!"?
A good many times I'll bet. Especially in the fall when the leaves have turned color.
Do you know that by doing so, you have unknowingly paid a high tribute to one of the least respected things on earth?
You have seen the beauty of imperfection!
Look closely at those trees. Not one of them is perfect, except unto itself. Each has a flaw of one sort or the other. A broken branch, or a crooked one, or some other thing.
But you saw past that imperfection when you said, "What a beautiful woods."
Now isn't it strange that the same people who can pay such a high complement to those trees, cannot do the same for those of their own species?
Why is it that people cannot go out amongst their own and say, "Oh what a beautiful mankind.", looking past all the imperfections that exist amongst men?
And look again at those forest my friends. See how the White Oak grows next to the Black Walnut. The Red Maple next to the Yellow Birch. See how all the trees of all the species grow together to make up that forest.
Yes there are some conflicts going on amongst the creepers and vines. But look at the overall beauty of harmony that exists.
Perhaps it would be wise for those who go into the woods to seek beauty, to take a closer look at the way those individual trees coexist. Perhaps then they could look at this world and their fellow men in a whole new light, that may lead to a better and more harmonious world.
But then, it is far easier to judge imperfection, then it is to overlook it. No wonder the trees tower over us. Perhaps they are greater in all ways then man...
Blue Turtle
MY TREE
My tree and I are the same age, but he is contrary as can be. When we were both eight years old he hardly reached my knee.
When I was busy going to school, he just stood there passively. Those young days spent together, now just pleasant memories.
When I needed a shoulder to cry on, he served me wonderfully. I could tell him all my troubles, as he stood there patiently.
My friend soon grew in stature, in both my eyes and physically. And I would stare up at him in envy, as he grew majestically.
He made me laugh so many times, what a contrary sight to see. As I was shedding clothes in spring, he would don his with glee.
And when fall came, he wore a new bright red coat gloriously. But in winter he stood there bare naked for all the world to see.
Friends used to laugh at me , asking,"What kind of friend is he?" Yet, for all of his funny habits, he proved the best company.
He has never shunned me, called me names, nor made fun of of me. And who can boast a bigger friend, than my old Oak tree?
Blue Turtle
HARD LOVE
Once within the forest, where life roams constantly. Was a tall and very sturdy, Mother Maple tree.
There within the grove, she stood majestically. Amid the Oaks and Beech and towering Hickory.
Staring in awe at her great girth, the other trees whispered wonderously. Asking that great Mother, how this came to be.
"Hard Love!" replied the Maple, "Hard love is what you see. Listen and I will tell you, of my Mother's great gift to me."
"When I was but a sapling, my Mother clung to me, while I watched with silent envy, while others grew up free.
Out away from their Mother's shade, they grew so rapidly. That I wished with all my heart, that those growing there were me.
My own growth was so slow, it was almost impossible to see. And I stood in silent embarrassment, as they taunted ceaselessly.
And I whispered to my Mother's roots, "Why do this thing to me?" And my Mother answered, "Hard Love! It's how a thing should be. I must give you Hard Love, just as my Mother gave to me".
So I watched those others grow with envy,staring jealously. While others grew so tall and slim, my squat trunk fattened grotesquely.
Again I cried to my Mother's roots, "How can you let such a thing be?" And Mother answered softly, "Hard love, my little tree. Hard love is what you must have, be patient and you'll see".
So I had no choice, but to grow there patiently. Too young and inexperienced to accept things graciously.
Then there came the wind storm, as violent as can be. That bent and broke all saplings, all except for me. I listened to those tortured moans of my sibling trees. And thought, but for Mother's hard love, that lying there would be me.
So thereafter I clung to Mother's roots and grew up patiently. To replace her here in her hallowed spot, to be what today you see.
Now I may not be the wisest of each and every tree. But I will stick with hard love. For nothing is given free".
Blue Turtle
Tiny Toilers
Slowly the workers leave their plants, gliding by gracefully. Slipping from the wonderous machines, served so faithfully.
Whirling and milling with others, and scampering playfully. Go skipping off through the woods, fulfilling their destiny.
Their kaliedoscopes of colors, so pleasant for all to see. Becomes their only epitaph, for services done for free.
Of million served and sheltered, and given good air to breath. How few are those who miss them, how few who care to grieve.
God's wonders can be deceptive, often more than one sees. How often do we admire the forest, yet disregard the trees.
To those who have to rake them, or have to clean the eaves. These tiny toilers of nature, are nothing more than leaves.
Blue Turtle
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