Formula
“Arguably one of the most beautiful trees in Kentucky”
But how do you measure that?
Is it the spread of the branches,
measuring the vault of the sky with reaching limbs?
Is it the quality of light
spilling down summer sticky
in a haze of green and gold
and patchwork shadows?
Is it the wavering fractal
of mossy boughs
spread just so to climb up
into the canopy
just a bit above the world?
Is it heady fragrances
flowers and fruit and damp Earth
breathing in to our lungs
incense curling up and around and out?
Is it the tendrils
of root rhizome mosaic
curling down down and out
into moist darkness
giving and taking molecules and messages
in a slow glory we will never see?
What makes a tree beautiful?
2 thoughts on "Formula"
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Oh my, how lovely. Line after line sings an anthem to the sacred gift of trees. If I had to pick my favorite line it might be ‘measuring the vault of the sky . . ., but there are more and more.
I love this poem, too, for the detailed attention to the tree. My favorite phrase is “patchwork shadows”