Cropped Bits of Boughs

Fragments of branches

Trees are on the mind. Perhaps last week’s foray into fields of grass has got my head tilted back a bit. I think of this poem by Walter de la Mare:

The Willow
By Walter de la Mare

Leans now the fair willow, dreaming
Amid her locks of green.
In the driving snow she was parched and cold,
And in midnight hath been
Swept by blasts of the void night,
Lashed by the rains.
Now of that wintry dark and bleak
No memory remains.

In mute desire she sways softly;
Thrilling sap up-flows;
She praises God in her beauty and grace, 
Whispers delight. And there flows 
A delicate wind from the Southern seas, 
Kissing her leaves. She sighs.
While the birds in her tresses make merry;
Burns the sun in the skies.

Without naming the tree, my mind is drawn to branches. Replace the birds with a child and you get Hokusai:

Boy Viewing Mt. Fuji, ca. 1840
by Hokusai

Hokusai brings to mind the patchwork photographic collage work of the Starn twins. I love seeing these in person. Some are waxy. Some have rustic patinas. Some draw my head back round to the whole notion of thinking.

Structure of Thought 27, ca. 2007
by Doug and Mike Starn

Is it possible that every tree is a Giving Tree if you have eyes to see its beauty?