|"Stick season" trees in silhouette against the sunrise|
I was thinking about sticks, branches, and of trees silhouetted against the sky, the Standing People to our indigenous neighbors, as written of in Robin Kimmerer's book, Braiding Sweetgrass.
Standing bare against November sky
I seem to see the souls of trees,
With life force safely underground,
Their essence etched against the sky.
One stretches up and spreads
delicate branches in joy, an arched crown overhead.
One reaches out in all directions
calling "come, light on me." "Someday there will be shade again."
One gestures downward, towards the earth;
head upward bound, it seems to say
"Look, I can show the way."
And so he can, if we but watch and listen.
A row of youngsters, pruned this year
(power lines, you know, and planted by humans
who did not watch or listen)
show off a thicket of a adolescent enthusiasm.
"We're here to GROW! You see! We know!"
I need to learn them all, by shape, at least those left to natural growth. And so, as I was sent to Dr. Kimmerer's talk by the corn totem on the hex sign I was painting, I have been sent to a talk on Winter Twig ID by the Bangor Land Trust a week from today.