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A Biography of Trees Copyright © Richard Whiting 2011
Finding words amongst the trees;
Striking them together like flints
You form a first flame.
Light grows to fire
Warming hearts around a hearth;
Melting the cold of my marrow,
Evaporating, never to fall as rain.
A forest will miss a single tree,
Felled by an equinox gale;
Gone before its time
A space we wonʼt live to see filled.
The trunk survives the man.
Sixty-three concentric lines
Ripple from a heart of walnut.
Mapped in the beauty of wood;
Its pleasures and its pains
Its treasures and its torment.
The story you told;
A Journey Through Trees,
(for Roger Deakin)