Category Archives: nature

Pruning Trees

This has been on my mind for a while now, since I saw the tree outside my apartment undergo some major pruning. I had felt sad, but I guess there’s more to rejoice.

“What’s going on?” I cried, rushing out into the garden.

He had a ladder against a tree and was at the topmost rung, perched and holding a saw, gazing up into the leafy arms. On the ground lay several piles of leaf-sprouting branches.

He saw me standing arms akimbo below and waved down at me, yelling, “I’m pruning the trees!”

“But why? They looked so beautiful with their crowns of green,” I pouted. “Now they look all ugly and bare!” I looked at the stumps of nothing against the bright blue skies and felt upset all over again.

“I feel like the trees have wasted all their efforts growing themselves out.”

“Yeah I know; they were glorious weren’t they?”

He came down from the ladder and stood beside me, looking up at the stumps too. “But pruning has way more benefits that outweigh this temporary ugliness.”

“Well yeah… I suppose…”

He glanced over at me sulking and laughed.

“Well, pruning helps to remove deadwood that hampers trees from growing to their best potential, and also helps to shape them and redirect their growth.”

He leaned the saw gently against the tree, then continued, gazing kindly at me.

“When they grow better, and in the right directions, they become healthier. At the same time, risks from falling branches are reduced while yield or quality of flowers and fruits are increased.”

“Yeah… I suppose you are right,” I replied grudgingly.

“That’s what you can look forward to. But it will take some time.” He patted me on the shoulder and winked. “But I assure you, it will be a magnificent sight to behold.”

And so I wait, for that magnificence to unfold.

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Castle

Canter to a halt, quiet
Still air laden; the leaves they whisper
Of martyrs and legends;

Blood once spilled where
Poppies grow, and silence that
Falls ’round the castell old;

Take me to the maiden, bound
To the dark night; take me in place
Of purity and light.

(Photo location: Eilean Donan, Scotland)

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Daily Prompt: Skewed

We hold beneath our
Skins, skewed perspectives but
Forget that, sometimes, like
All things in nature, they
Require balance.

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Snuggles

Found this little fella on the ground two Sundays ago and spent a glorious week together. Fly strong, and remember my windows are always open.

I’ll remember these
Quiet afternoons, precious
Warm snuggles of ours.

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Conversing Birds

I flopped into the couch and sighed loudly. He looked up, amused. I sighed again and pouted.

“It’s so difficult being real.”

“Why is that?”

“There’s so much hatred and self-centeredness out there. There’s just no point. No one cares anymore.”

He closed the book.

“What do you propose to do then?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe I’ll just not go out that much anymore. It’s all so tiring.”

“Listen. What do you hear right now, outside the window?”

If there were such a thing as squinting my ears, that was what I did right then.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Listen carefully.”

It was then that I heard it. The quiet chirping of a bird. But it was so soft that I would not have noticed it.

“It’s a bird chirping.”

“That’s right. Now, listen again and tell me what you hear.”

This time, I was getting the hang of this little exercise.

“Ah, there’s another bird. No, wait actually there’re two more.”

The birds were sounding pretty lovely actually, sort of like they were having an animated conversation.

“You see, the first little bird was just chirping the way he knows how to. The way he should. That is his nature.”

“And at first, he was just chirping by himself. But then, you heard another one responding to him. And there was a third. And it all started sounding pretty amazing. It became a beautiful three-voice song.”

He looked at me, smiling.

“But here’s the thing. No one could hear him at first. And even when he could be heard, not everyone likes his song.”

“Still, he continued singing that melody, not changing it or replicating another bird’s tune, because that’s what he was made to sing.”

“He’s just being himself. He’s being real.”

“And look what happened: other birds came. They understood what he was singing and responded to him, and now they’re having a mighty fine session.”

“I think I know what you’re saying…”

He gave me a wink before reopening the book.

“You do.”

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Fingers

Her fingers explore
Writing stories on his body;
His fingers explore
Making her scream with melody.

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Daily Prompt: Betrayed

The deeper the t(h)rust
The deeper betrayal cuts.

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