This tree.

A medusa tangle of roots
sunlight shifts and sifts
dappled dancing shadows
salt wind, ocean waves
a robin sings
the hammock sways.

Let’s go dancing
in the salt sea air
where the smell of kelp
lingers under the moon.

Outside the harbour wall
the whales are groaning
calling harpooned souls home to rest.
Wild freesias grow in the graveyard
where shell-covered crosses
mark fishermen’s graves.

My hand meets yours
we dance.

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3 Responses to “This tree.”


  1. 1 wkkortas September 24, 2010 at 10:15 pm

    It’s if Yeats’ “The Stolen Child” had a love child with The Beautiful South’s “I’m Your Number One Fan” and, crazy as it may seem, I very much mean that as a compliment. This is a very impressive piece of writing.

    • 2 Kalila September 27, 2010 at 2:12 pm

      I went to find the words to both – I thank you for them – the Yeats evokes the secrets and wildness of the place where I live, yet it is a suburb of a city, so it’s an apt description for the love child, who danced around in my head for a few days asking to be written down and sent out into the world. I’m glad I did it.

  2. 3 Humble Hedonist February 13, 2011 at 12:40 pm

    I’m glad you did it too… so very very beautiful.


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