What is on my mind today? Trees and ivy, mostly.
Perhaps also things like contentment;
Being present; simplicity in a world of famine;
War; democracy; and peace.
But I do not think I can say anything you do not know about those
So it is possible this blog may be disappointing.
I could tell you, if you wish,
That if you were to go to the woods at the end of Boghall Road
And follow your small brown dog
Who will follow his perfect little black nose
You might, if his nose agreed,
Come to a fallen tree
Upon which you might, if you wanted,
In that case, you would find yourself looking at a tall tree
A very tall tree, like the other trees around.
It is covered with ivy, and it is swaying a long way in the wind
Considering its girth.
At this time of year, January,
You can’t tell if it’s dead by looking for leaves.
You might think it is likely to fall soon.
Then you would probably carry on to the top of Bray Head
Looking at the sea
And the views
And taking a picture of a rainbow.
On the way back down, still following the nose,
You would come to a group of pines at the place where four paths meet.
These are shorter trees, exposed on the hillside.
They are alive.
But oddly, one is not swaying.
That one is covered with more ivy than the rest,
In fact, you only stopped to notice them all
Because of the sunshine on the green ivy leaves.
I do not know why this one tree is steady
When the others wave wildly.
You might be able to tell me, perhaps.
One tree in a group of wavering trees sounds like a metaphor
For a spiritual blog
But what I see is that the black berries on the ivy
Are matt-black, no shine at all
Dead matt against the glossy coat of leaves.
I do not know why this is, either.
You might stand and look
And if you are profound
You might think of a spiritual metaphor for the blog
And it might be the right length on a relevant subject.
I looked at the matt black berries and thought of
Gleaming dog noses
And I looked down and wondered where
The perfect black nose had gone
So I went to look.
He was just round the corner, looking back at me,
Wondering where I was
And why I was spending so long on a tree
That had no significant smell at all.
It seems likely that he does not admire my nose
As much as I do, his.
Then we walked back, as you might,
Through a wood of hundreds of ivy-covered trees
Swaying in the wind.