Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “trees”

Soft Blue

The sky is such a soft blue today,
like watercolour seeping from a loaded brush,
creeping across the horizon.
If I could I would lay my head
down upon its lap,
close my eyes, and drift
eider clouds tickling my nose
as they scud past.

I’d look down at naked poplars,
their skritchy-scratchy calligraphic limbs akimbo;
mute supplicants awaiting the slow explosion
of green ruffles and pollen confetti.
A time-lapse collapse into rustling
sighs but oh, my,
the sky is such a soft blue today.


Morning’s first light leaves
tree silhouette frost shadows
on yellowing lawns.


Shapes shift in the long darkness
of winter’s front porch.
“Is it time yet?” rustle the crisped leaves
as they skitter around and around in anticipation.
“is it time yet?” groan the stark trees,
their gnarled, grasping fingers
clawing the ragged hem of the grey clouds.
“Soon” breathes the drifting snow.
“Soon” chime the falling ice crystals.
“Soon” sighs the gate to the underworld.

Light fades, colours melt, night throws
his velvet blanket,
“Now” the blanket snaps.
“Don your disguises and walk.
The masquerade has begun.”



Song of the Tree


hold out
branches in
wind that moves
clouds around and I’d
it in my needles and cones and
it sift through my swaying limbs singing
to my roots and vibrating
the       earth      with     its     song
of life         of joy         of             the       music
of the              spheres            as               they          spin.  



Live Again

What good is sunshine in a windowless room?
How do you know if it’s raining outside?
What good is wrangling over maybes and coulds?
How do you know if there’s truth in the lies?

But one day the sun’s gonna work its way
through roof and wall and light it all
and the rain will wash it away.

What good are windows if they just face a wall?
How do the trees find a place they can play?
What good is staring at the same set of facts?
How many bricks are in a day?

And one day the trees are gonna eat their way
through roof and wall and turn it all
into molehill mountains once again.

What good, How do you do what you do
when you know that nothing’s ever gonna change on it’s own.
How do, what good is waiting for the rain,
and the sun, and the trees, because all of these
are waiting for you too.

Climb a tree, touch the rain
feel the sun on your face
and never wait to live again.



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