Home poems in progress – #3 The Tree Museum

The Tree Museum

 

Light dense with memory

crowds The Arboretum’s

green hands

down

child-tramped

cinder-track…

…spreading ad-infinitum

over sly-necked brook

and wooden steps

shoved underground

for public safety.

 

I remember…

two-hundred year-old roots

squiring size-one shoes,

their bodies,

hung low to the path,

now stumped

by sappy replacements,

march to

a colonnade of millennial Oaks

in high-flown conversation.

 

Here,

inside the Tree Museum’s mind,

all history is contained:

future-probable,

future-perfect,

size one shoes baring boats,

teen Romantics baring ghosts,

young women on pilgrimage

 

to fill like glass

and listen.

 

 

Tamsin7/11/15