the trees call to me
they know me by name

they weep
spilling their leaves and pods
over the earth

their hearts are heavy
with the knowledge that
destruction surrounds their planet

i whisper, “i don’t know what to do;
i don’t know how to stop it”

the trees call to me
they know me by name

their hearts are hopeful
with the knowledge that
change is still possible

“it is not too late”, they cry
“you can build an army of love
on this earth”

i pray, “help me with that job;
i will try to make a difference”

the trees call to me
they know me by name

“Trees” From Poems & Random Thoughts About Life by Kay McLane ©2019 kay mclane, peace full®/intentional living, 2013-2019.

Years ago, a stand of forty-foot, majestic pines, that lined the back of my property, were taken down by a public utility company to make their job easier. I cried and literally hugged those trees—that stood as testaments to the amazingness of God’s creation—as they were destroyed.

Soon, another public utility will construct a gigantic twenty-five foot, metal tank right next to one of the other borders of my house. Instead of sitting on the deck and seeing a beautiful backdrop of trees reaching to the sky, I’ll see cold metal created by man. “Progress”, I’m told.

A beautiful, gigantic locust tree stands strong right outside the back of my home. I love this tree. Sometimes “the tree” is very messy. It takes energy to clean up after it sheds its seeds in the spring and after it loses its minuscule leaves in the fall. “The tree” reminds me of life, which can be messy, too. “The tree” is amazing in the summer, offering shade and still allowing me to see the sky. “The tree” sways gently in the wind, and has thorns as sharp as nails. Life is sometimes “shaded” but we can still see the light if we look for it. And, we can be in rhythm with the universe and still feel the pain that sometimes pierces us.

Creation and destruction. Progress and setbacks. Beauty and messiness. Shade and light. Gentleness and thorns. Just like life….twisting and turning. Growth and death. Love and sorry. When do we stop and see and listen to the earth, to our spirits, to our most special people? The trees do call to me. I do believe they know me by name.

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