Thanksgiving Poem

I am the tree.

The tree is me.


The tree rests in winter, preparing for new growth in spring.


Blessed Thanksgiving, all.

3 thoughts on “Thanksgiving Poem”

  1. Yes, Mary Elyn, we are all one and so connected. I love trees, especially the tree trunks and limbs. They seem to each have their own personality or presence. I draw them often. Wishing you a blessed Thanksgiving!!


  2. Thank-you. A friend recently opined that women often seem to have a personal relationship with trees from childhood and later also. Recently on a rainy, slightly windy day in Stockton, I walked beneath a tree just as it released dozens of small gold/red leaves… watched them seemingly dance to the ground although their flitting and spiraling dance was effected by the wind. Made me very grateful for that moment. Couldn’t help but name it the Death Dance — gravity having its ultimate way. Reminded me of a tree poem I’d started to write a few months ago: I do not move through the world. The world moves through me.


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