Welcome to my Poetry Friday post. Things get a little sporadic in the summer, but I’m happy to be back this week to share a poem I recently wrote about my beloved cherry tree.
From The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year by Margaret Renkl:
“Even now, with the natural world in so much trouble – even now, with the pattern
of my daily life changing in ways I don’t always welcome or understand – radiant
things are bursting forth in the darkest places, in the smallest nooks and deepest
cracks of the hidden world.”
The flowering cherry that grows in our back yard was here when we moved in over 45 years ago. I’ve written about it before on this blog, so you might be familiar with it. It has withstood stress from storms throughout the years and has been a source of shelter for countless creatures. Every spring, right on cue, it bursts into beautiful blooms of hope and resilience. From time-to-time limbs have fallen or we’ve had to prune some branches, but there is always, somewhere, new growth.
We are both growing older, the tree and I. Over the years we have changed in appearance and sometimes in purpose. It is a reminder that although life still has more to offer, perhaps parts of us are ready to rest.
On a Hot Summer Afternoon
the large limb that allowed
spiders to roam
nestlings to roost
squirrels to shelter
through rain and snow
wind and sun…
fell to earth
with a gentle sigh –
time to rest.
Draft, RoseCappelli2024
Jan has the roundup today at Bookseedstudio. Be sure to stop by for links to lots of wonderful poetry.
Imagine the Possibilities 
Such a sensitive poem for change in growth and life… My heart sighs some for your cherry 🍒 tree. Thanks Rose for this grand poem, for your grand tree!
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Thanks, Michelle.
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oh Rose! Is your tree gone? I can only imagine how heartbroken you are! Your beautiful words aren’t a lovely lament, the gentlest sigh 😔
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Not gone completely, thank goodness. Just another limb down. It was weird because it was a calm, quiet day and neither of us heard it fall. It was just time, I guess.
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Dear Rose,
This is a time-stopping, heart-holding post in your prose & in your poem. I luv this:
“We are both growing older, the tree and I. Over the years we have changed in appearance and sometimes in purpose.”
Forty-five years with this nourishing flowering leafing sheltering beauty is a Wonder. It’s beautiful how you twine your own life & purposes with the service of the tree. Appreciations for this picture of the surprise, good-weather, limb down scene & for your great good words.
jan/bookseedstudio
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Thanks, Jan. And thanks for hosting today.
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I like this bit from your intro: “there is always, somewhere, new growth.” A mantra for us all!
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Thank you, Tabatha.
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That is sure a positive spin on the falling branch. I hope no damage was done. Our neighbor recently had an old oak removed. It was a tragic day, but also one of gratitude for the long life it had lived. Even trees have an end to their lives.
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Yes, everything ends, but my goal is to outlive the tree.
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Rose, wow. I don’t know much about flowering cherry trees, but it is much bigger than I would have thought. And you’ve been sharing space with it for 45 years! Amazing. I love your gentle poem with all the things this big limb was for, and now, a time for rest. Yes, your poem is a lovely illustration of the truth that “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” (Haruki Murakami)
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I’m holding on tight to this bit from your intro with both hands: “radiant
things are bursting forth in the darkest places“
We are here to bear witness. As you have done with your tree, throughout your life together, as things change on schedule or not. Your poem is a great reminder to accept change — let the branch fall.
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Rose, this is fresh and lovely and bittersweet. Thanks so much for putting it in a poem! xo
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Oh that gentle sigh. I love that you’ve grown and changed along with the cherry tree.
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Rose, life is fragile and uncertain. I am sorry about the sad news you received but nature found a way to soothe the sorrow. Your poems reflect the joy nature brings.
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