IT is NOT FOR A TREE TO TELL A TALE.©
Art and POETRY BY CAROLINE STREET

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IT IS NOT FOR A TREE TO TELL A TALE.©
A poem by Caroline Street.


​Trees are instinctively wise,
And if they could communicate,
They would surprise, 
By revealing the secrets
Of the comings and goings
Of life through the ages.
 
Of gatherings for special occasions,
Picnics after sermons on Sundays,
Colourful celebrations marking Spring Day.
Of the games that children play -
Hide-and-seek, blind man's buff
And lawn croquet.
 
Of buskers and bands rendering jokes and songs,
Their fans' faces flushed with joy.
Of revellers sipping gold and crimson wines,
Tapping their fingers and fancy shoes
And dancing to the tunes of the times.
Of the sad and lonely ruminating
To the sound of the blues. 
 
Of political rallies and eager politicians
With empty promises to gain popularity
Which ultimately never comes to pass.
Of handshakes and promises to vote,
The whole affair ending on a happy note.
 
Of young lovers, talking in whispers,
Stolen kisses and caresses,
Wedding proposals and nuptials.
Of couples involved in illicit affairs
And scorned lovers acting like they don't care.
 
Of students studying books,
Sitting in quiet, shady, nooks.
Of tired mothers pushing prams
Wishing their toddlers were not so out of hand.
Of animal lovers walking their dogs
And fitness fanatics going for jogs.
 
Of disconsolate soldiers seeking solitude,
Reflecting on the horrors of war.
Of dreamers, artists, and poets
Who spend hours at easels and penning notes.
 
It is not for a tree to tell a tale,
For a tree is a bystander - a sentinel
Consistently faithful, doing only what it is able;
To offer a shady bough from the heat,
And a scene where nature and people meet. ❤

Baobab Tree. Oil.

Ascension. Acrylic.

Cypresses At Lydenburg. Oil.

Lantern Light. Oil.

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