I cannot count each layer laid,
on the back of bark, from rise of sap,
for every year a ring
for every spring I’ve grown.
I have seen the aged librarian
as toddler, boy and as a teen
when I lent my skin for him to carve.
her name and his;
knowing well that for girls in spring
forever lasts a week or two.
and ever since
I’ve watched him age and wither
I’ve given him my shadow
when he cries,
I’ve lent him shelter as he reads
the signs he left
knowing well that for an aging man
forever ends with death;
cause for an aging oak a human
life is brief.
Today Mish hosts poetics at dVerse and want us to write from nature’s point of view. I let an old oak tell another piece of story from the life of the aged librarian.
—
March 28, 2017
Compared to an oak, our life is indeed brief ~ Though when one is young, forever lasts a week or two, smiles ~ Really like the point of view of the tree,watching as the librarian reads, and ages through the years.
Beautifully done Bjorn. I love how you play around with time here and introduce our old friend the librarian onto proceedings.
I love this “piece” “page” of the librarian. The idea of “forever” being different for the young girls whose initials are carved in the tree 🙂
Wonderfully done!
You have tuned in to my fascination for trees, Bjorn! This is so beautifully written!
I really love this librarian series.
Trees that live longer than we do must see our lives as too brief to satisfy them.
Tricky how the librarian found his way into this prompt, & made it his own, Seems that we are “Brothers of the Tree” today, pal; smile.
Made me shiver, a really beautiful poem. ❤
So pleased to read about the librarian in a poem spoken by a tree – so apt, Bjorn, and so imaginative, and the tree is so kind and caring:
‘I have seen the aged librarian
as toddler, boy and as a teen
when I lent my skin for him to carve.
her name and his’.
and
‘I’ve given him my shadow
when he cries,
I’ve lent him shelter as he reads
the signs he left’.
Humbling words – well done!
Wonderful interweaving of oak and the ancient librarian. I do tend to think of libraries as oak shelf/branches holding up billions of pages made, in fact, from trees. As that was the librarian’s world, it is an inspired image to pin the stages of his life against.
It amazes me all that we can see from the eyes of a tree…and you’ve captured so much from his/her view…the pain and the joy. This is wonderful, Bjorn.
The aged librarian strikes again. I love how the tree let him carve initials into “his skin” and how he watched the librarian age from young boy to old men. Wonderful interweaving of two stories.
So true, for girls in Spring forever only lasts a week or two. I think now days, it lasts about 15 minutes for me. Thanks Bjorn, for a look from the tree’s perspective
Well done
I love the knowing in this…the quiet, gentle wisdom. Wonderful.
Wow. Wow. This is nostalgic, melancholic and wise. The last line is so true. This is. ❤ ❤ ❤
passage of time so wonderfully captivated in the voice of a tree…the oak seems to be the very soul where the human/ librarian stays and watches all….
Looks like we had a similar thought in our poems about the longevity of trees compared to us.
It’s nice to see the librarian outdoors, and to get a glimpse of his early years. It’s nice to know the tree marks his precense. I’m really enjoying your librarian series.
I love that trees take care of each other and the leaves are extensions of them; the oak renews itself each spring. I believe they listen and watch in their own way. Nice, Bjorn.
Your piece somehow reminded me of The Giving Tree. AT the same time. I am reminded of the magical Ents in the LOTR universe. But trees are truly mysterious and wise. Oh, if only they can speak.
You have an excellent oaken voice. That a tree would look on love between humans is interesting. But you have to wonder, if they understand the purpose of fixing on one partner for life when mobility/proximity is not a factor the way it is for trees.
I am sure trees feel and know more than we imagine. If we allowed ourselves to imagine that is.
cause for an aging oak
a human life is brief.
Relatively speaking an oak will last longer than humans
Hank
I like how you’ve woven a tree and human lives.