coming home to green trees: a haiku (and a prose)


20160227_173930daily waving breeze

home for birds and other friends

gently sway hello ~~~~~~~~~~~~~They look spectacular, a whole row of tall, straight, majestic lush green trees lining my front yard, a tiny public park for this garden residential area. sometimes I forget I am home and not at sea anymore. I forget because they sound like waves when the wind blows through their strong branches. At first I thought I heard the rocking humming waves in my sleep. Or perhaps the rain had come, I thought on some nights. When I woke suddenly and went to look out of my window I saw these trees swaying in the wind like a troop of well trained dancers. They swayed with the orchestrated rhythm of the wind. It was so marvelous to watch them against the yellow street light. The wind piped through them like an ancient organ. The trees performed like professional. From the sound of the birds I cannot figure out the many varieties and large quantity of these winged inhabitants who have become my faithful musical neighbors together with their kindly gentle tree abode.


Tree at my Window

by Robert Frost

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.


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