A sapling
sits
in stream-fed
soil.
It takes
its time growing,
overshadowed
by her sisters
thirty years
ahead.
A young birch
watches the forst
transform
through spring
to winter
without
a whisper.
She endures frost,
summer heat,
dripping sap
from insect-inflicted
wounds,
stripes of survival.
A hundred years on,
the forest shrinks
to a grove,
but the birch
still stands,
observing.
Showing posts with label tree sap. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tree sap. Show all posts
Monday, 9 April 2018
Wednesday, 7 June 2017
Cryogenic Foetal Lizard
One silver tadpole,
encased, embalmed,
caught mid-fall
from an oasis
in the branches.
A lizard, curled up,
almost foetal,
scales and claws
preserved, pristine,
by cryogenic sap.
A midge, taking off
from a petrified perch,
framed, glistening,
wings rendered still,
yet in permanent flight.
A red ant, crooked legs,
frozen in its prison,
a bulging abdomen,
a honeypot,
a golden bubble.
(This poem was inspired by a documentary about amber presented by Sir David Attenborough back in 2002. Check out The Amber Time Machine if you get the chance, it's really worth a watch.)
encased, embalmed,
caught mid-fall
from an oasis
in the branches.
A lizard, curled up,
almost foetal,
scales and claws
preserved, pristine,
by cryogenic sap.
A midge, taking off
from a petrified perch,
framed, glistening,
wings rendered still,
yet in permanent flight.
A red ant, crooked legs,
frozen in its prison,
a bulging abdomen,
a honeypot,
a golden bubble.
(This poem was inspired by a documentary about amber presented by Sir David Attenborough back in 2002. Check out The Amber Time Machine if you get the chance, it's really worth a watch.)
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