Heartwood

Clare Rainsford

I am weary today of all wanting. 
I will be content with the trees,
And their shadows, which dapple my footsteps,
And the branches that wait for their leaves.

They have nothing to tell me of glory,
Ambition or work or of pride,
But only the soil and the weather,
The stuff of the earth and of life. 

How fruitless it is, all our longing!
Hopes blossom, or not, in their time,
Glorious as leaves in their season,
That nourish, and fade, and die. 

The woodland will wait out the winter,
Sap sluggish, and roots buried deep,
Making beauty of ice and of darkness,
Of heartwood and humus and cold frosted leaf. 
Press play to hear the poem.
Birch woods at Skipwith Common, nr Selby. Photo: C Rainsford.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s