Trees

Two Poems

We have three trees in our yard: One, the redwood, has been here decades longer than we have. The other two, a Japanese maple and a flowering cherry, we planted. I chose the Japanese maple because of its fall colors and the flowering cherry because I once visited Japan to see my brother and his family during Sukura, the Cherry Blossom Festival. I had been in Tokyo a few days when all the cherry trees seemed to blossom over night. That next day, we went to Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. Entering through the Sendagaya Gate, we went up the path and turned right and there we were, surrounded by hundreds of cherry trees, all in full bloom, every possible shade of pink and white. The meadow filled with people celebrating spring and the blossoming of a tree. I wept. I still get goosebumps replaying that moment. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. If there is a God or a heaven, that would be it.

I love trees. I love their shade, the way their branches intertwine, watching the growth of new lives. I love how their roots grow into the ground. How they seek out water. I love their steadiness and how each tree, like each person, has its own essence.

In the morning, while sitting in bed drinking coffee, I look out at the Japanese maple. While writing, I see the redwood tree, and from the kitchen, I can watch the flowering cherry.

This poem, Three Trees, was published in the latest issue of MacQueen’s Quinterly.

We didn’t have trees in our yard when I was growing up. It was a new subdivision in Dallas. Any trees were young. I wanted a weeping willow tree. I have a vague memory of my dad planting a tree once but it died.

I’ve lived in California for more than thirty years but I still go back to see my family. One time, quite a few years ago, I was driving back to my parents’ apartment and one of favorite Cars’ songs came on the radio. Rather than telling you the story that the poem tells, I’ll let you read about that moment I realized that not only had the trees grown but also so had I, and the past that had seemed so tortured at times was actually a blessing.

This poem was originally published in 2010 in Scribble, vol. 7, no. 3.

Thank you so much for reading and welcome to my new subscribers. I appreciate all of you and your support of my writing so much. Feel free to comment and share.

If you feel like reading a third poem you can read April, also just published in MacQueen’s Quinterly. It connects back to last week’s post.

.