Look around…What dramas are being played out in the wooded areas…?
The Hidden Life of Trees, P. Wohlleben
Oh, we’ve been neighbors
for years—decades, really,
not friends, exactly but
community, you could say
we landed here, settled in,
put down roots, got it made
in the shade, as they say,
on this hill beside the creek.
We watch kids climbing the rocks,
fox kits tumbling in the clearing,
give cover to the red-tailed hawk,
the Great Blue Heron passing through.
We watch out for each other, too—
winter ice, summer heat, drought
or too much rain, but at least
so far not fires or floods. Still,
we knew she hadn’t looked well,
but there they were, the night
of the big storm, swinging and swaying
in that gusty wind, he—tall and regal,
she—arms outstretched tracing circles
against the sky and in slow motion
she just let go the earth in a quiet swoon,
she just leaned back into him, and I think
it was only the shock of the dead weight
of her when he caught her that he realized.
He was shaken but he stood firm—stands
firm. I look over there sometimes and
it’s like they’re still waltzing in that rain,
her arms still around him. He’ll hold her
like that forever, no matter what
befalls him, the two of them together
in life and death still giving succor,
shelter. A love story write in rings.
—
Joyce Ritchie grew up in Midwest farmland and now lives in the coastal Mid-Atlantic; place infuses her poems. A lifelong reader, classical musician and career fundraiser, words and music are a through-line of her life. These days, she’s happiest wandering outdoors, a plein air poet, rediscovering her love of words and music—wordmusic. Publications include Blue Heron Review, Canary, Passager, Persimmon Tree, Sunlight Press (Pushcart nomination), and three chapbooks in collaboration with plein air painters.
