The Beefwood Tree

It is good to return

Without the filters

And masks

To breathe and just be grateful

For all that was


And ever will be

To not carry things under my skin

Where they dig in

Like burrs

Sharp stones

To not mourn what is gone

But instead see all that remains unchanged

Interminable through the passage of time

Some trees have fallen

Yet some

Will always stand

As long as I return

And that will only be another few years

While I walk on this earth

That Beefwood by the fence will see me again

It watched me as a child

But I never saw it grow

It’s always been huge, dark, brooding

A sentry to life passing by its buckled trunk

We are all just drifting through

But some things seem to always



5 thoughts on “The Beefwood Tree

    • I often think that with trees! The tennis parties, the advent of the first mechanical cars roaring through the gates, the horses trotting past and before that, just the quietness of the bush, no house or shed or humans. It is that old I think, though couldn’t be sure.

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