The Tribes of Trees

          
The Tribes of Trees
       
How many tribes – of plants – and even trees!
So let me speak awhile of only two.
These tribes, I've seen – and wondered at them both
Through all my life – and so perhaps have you.

The conifers are somber, dark and dense.
And when we're near them, we ourselves are tense.
For they must battle Nature, where they stand.
Their gravity, survivors understand.

The broad-leaved ones are laughing in the light.
And in their laughter, some of us delight.
Their leaves are motion, like the waves that play
Across the sea that shimmers through the day.

How stoic are the pines and firs and spruce,
How strong, how graceful are the cedars tall...
How changeful are the maples, oaks and more
Who wake in spring and slow to sleep in fall...

The evergreens have leaves that never freeze.
But trees deciduous shed their tropic leaves,
Remembering, through winter, summer's sun.
In resurrection, she, who sees, believes...

How bleak would winter be, without the greens
Of conifers that stand and witness all...
How tame would be the spring, without the ones
That wait for it – and blaze again in fall...

The tribes of trees are varied, more than men,
And those of us, who seek their company,
Can find a tribe that seems to that reflect
That dwells in us and joins in symphony.

And surely, tribes of trees and men have place
Beneath the sun that feeds the trees and us.
And yet, we slaughter both so wantonly,
Despising those who make the slightest fuss.

2013 November 9th, Sat.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn