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If I Were a Tree

July 6, 2021

If I Were a Tree

By Amba Gale

If I were a tree,
I would be the dancing Cottonwood,
waving at me, at us all,
arms delighting in the dance
of the early evening breeze.

I would not know or care
whose property I’m on.
I would not ask
how long I’m going to live.
Or if God exists.
I would not worry that some months hence
my leaves are going to fall
and my branches will get bony.

I just would wave my arms
in pure ecstasy to be alive,
at one with the wind
who holds me in his arms.

Some of my leaves would be golden
in the setting sun
some green,
some twirling and turning
round and round,
Dancing, dancing, dancing.

Additional Poetry

October 12, 2021

Ignition

“Pick up your pen and write,” she says,  that wise and ancient Voice: the devoted Muse, speaking to me in the grey morning, white  ball of sun  in the sky, in the water, below. Below, where the surface conversation has long since disappeared, I ask a private question: “Of what shall I write?” “Anything you hear in the deep well of your own heart.” “Write about the loon mourning the days away. Write about the turtle who belongs   in the pond among the lilies. Write about a world of wonders. Write about me, who will always encourage    you to find…

September 27, 2021

Patience

Hello, Great Blue! You, who walk so stealthily, so faithfully, so gracefully, so quietly, on your long, lanky, legs, looking, waiting for your first, tasty morsel from the sea, yellowing sea. Good morning, Great Blue, Long Necked Warrior of the Morning birds, you, who work so attentively alertly, keen for your morning fish. looking outwards toward the rising, brightening, sun. Do you watch for the sun to rise? Are you single pointedly moving towards the exact place where the fish meet your beak? This is the way I want to awaken each day, saying hello to the wild world before…

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