The Tree Still Knows My Name

The Tree Still Knows My Name

The tree stands wide with stories in its arms,

roots holding hours the earth refused to lose.

Its bark remembers footsteps, rain, and hands,

each ring a season learning how to stay.

It does not hurry light along its veins,

it lets the morning find it when it can.

Leaves turn their faces slowly into gold,

as if patience itself were something grown.

A small bright bird rests easy on a branch,

heart quick, yet certain of the place it chose.

Its colours feel like answers, not display,

a living yes stitched into open air.

It sings without explaining why it sings,

sound falling where it lands, and staying there.

No promise made, no future set in stone,

just breath and moment held the way they are.

Below, the houses lean into the shade,

windows learning warmth from borrowed sun.

Lives move quietly under borrowed boughs,

safe for a while inside the tree’s long thought.

Spring arrives without knocking at the door,

yellow flowers breaking into honest light.

They do not doubt the soil that shaped their rise,

they open fully, once the hour is right.

I stand between the singing and the bloom,

held by a world that knows me without words.

The tree, the bird, the flowers, all agree,

life does not rush, it simply keeps its truth.

poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofvocal #vocalmedia #writersofvocal #creativewriting #literarywriting #modernpoetry #freeverse #naturepoetry #springpoetry #artandpoetry #poetrylovers #poetrydaily #poetsofinstagram #writersofinstagram #poetsoffacebook #writingfromtheheart #poeticvoices #poetryoftheday #natureinspired #springwriting #poemgram