Gardening (A conversation between trees) The humans are coming again, they think they’re doing something. Brassle your branches, whipple your leaves, send out a warning. Below ground, thrumble your roots together, beat out the grance
Gardening (A conversation between trees)
The humans are coming again,
they think they’re doing something.
Brassle your branches, whipple your leaves,
send out a warning.
Below ground, thrumble your roots together,
beat out the grance of actions,
werb your twigs into a low gellow,
They will never know.
The humans are coming again,
thrapple your bark, make it extra stord,
they think they are doing great work,
we know better.
At your crown, tricle leaves.
Be mindful of the sun’s direction,
dratch the best light, make them think.
We will always be a puzzle to them.
The humans are coming again,
scrimble down sap, send messages in earth and air,
gripple, at top volume, if necessary,
but only when you hear the signal.
At the all clear, when they are gone,
so small and pleased with everything,
trumble back to your true selves,
and remember, always stand tall.
Alison Jones
Alison Jones is a teacher, and writer with work published in a variety of places, from Poetry Ireland Review, Proletarian Poetry and The Interpreter’s House, to The Green Parent Magazine and The Guardian. She has a particular interest in the role of nature in literature and is a champion of contemporary poetry in the secondary school classroom. Her pamphlet, ‘Heartwood’ was published by Indigo Dreams in 2018, with a second pamphlet. ‘Omega’, and a full collection forthcoming in 2020.