Poems from in between

by Jenifer Cartland

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It is always the trees

it is always the trees
I notice first perhaps because
they are shorter, green
in the wrong months, palm-leaved
exhausted by the never-ending

growth they cannot escape
next, the grasses vining, matted
odd outgrowths of flowers
of unsettling crayola shades
knock-kneed, longed-necked fowl

I am transmuted towards
a single of the thousand and one
places, mysteries resisting
their slow-spiraling offerings
as I learn to sit still

the unraveling begins slow,
rolling forward; I sip tea
inspect the landscape, shelve
my words, and wonder aimlessly
praying for hibernation

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34 responses to “It is always the trees”

  2. Wonderful imagery and layers of meaning and I like how you used enjambment to pull us through the poem. Really effective, Gayle. Your weather reminds me a bit of ours when I’m in the desert. While I was there recently, they were in the process of removing the summer flowers and planting for winter–which is always more beautiful. This year they have begun the process of installing artificial turf–getting ready for drought and the amazing water restrictions they have imposed with significant penalties for overuse. Good thing, though.

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  3. I grew up in WA state where seasons are distinct, physically & emotionally; then spent a decade in S. CA, & had to adjust to the subtleties of seasonal change; 76 degrees on Christmas. I, too, had to slow myself down, & pay attention. I like your lines /mysteries resisting/their slow spiraling offerings/as I learn to sit still/.

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  6. I like how you notice the trees first. Many of the trees here grow throughout the year, “green in the wrong months.” That’s the way of nature here, “as I learn to sit still.” Really nice.

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  7. Unbridled growth of flowers
    where spRing never
    ceases is almost
    where i live now
    in Indian Summers
    growing to New Year
    of next freeze
    now.. beauty
    increases
    after Winter’s
    kill finally comes
    without clouds
    Sun never
    comes
    out..
    without cold
    hot chocolate and
    fireplaces of Love
    rarely soot warm..:)

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  8. Really enjoyed the rich words (such as ‘unsettling crayola shades) you used to present your images; and ending with the sipping of tea is perfection.

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  11. The movement in this is so beautiful–the growth, spiraling, unraveling. I can feel the disorientation, the overwhelming.
    “shelve/my words”–um, not.
    Well, I just keep going back and reading again.

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