The Elm Tree

Shelley Ayres

The elm tree is a sentinel in our back yard.

It provides welcomed shade on summer days like this one.

A long rope hangs from a branch that seems to be as high as the sky itself.

I place the charcoal in the grill and squirt on the lighter fuel.

Strangely, I enjoy that smell.

My mom strikes a wooden kitchen match and tosses it onto the soaked charcoal.

The instant flare makes us both jump back and turn our faces away.

Soon the aroma of the chicken takes over.

I am pulled to the waiting rope hanging from the tree.

To climb to the top and touch the branch from which it descends.

As I hang there spellbound by the view my mother comes out to tend to the chicken.

With wide eyes and a hint of fear in her voice she commands that I come down.

I know this battle is futile.

I slowly retreat with bowed head and wet eyes.

September 08, 2013

The Mulberry Tree

Shelley Ayres

I climb the crooked slats nailed to the trunk of our gnarly old mulberry tree.

My safe haven waits patiently for my return.

I reach the plank floor of the tree house and swiftly lie on my back.

I exhale a smile at the leaves waving at me from their branches.

I feel the dappled warmth of sunlight on my skin.

I inhale deeply, consuming the scent of ripe berries and old wood.

With each breath I distance myself from the uneasiness that had invaded me.

The tree, my tree, is the calmness that I crave.

This tree is magical.

September 8, 2013

 The Tree House

Shelley Ayres

In need of adventure I climb to my tree house.

Eyes closed the swaying tree house becomes a pirate’s ship.

I ride the rise and fall of waves at sea.

The creaking ship’s deck and the dancing branches are not branches at all.

They are drunken sailors singing “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Rum.”

A blue jay squeals, “Ahoy Matey” as it lands on the ship’s rail.

“Arrgh!  Are there really blue parrots?” I wonder.

The blue parrot sounds his warning as he takes to the wind.

“Beware, the new cap’n of the sea,” and I laugh my most sinister laugh.

 September 8, 2013

My Garden

Shelley Ayres

I stumble sleepy eyed, through the door to greet the glorious gift of morning.

 I meander through my garden, hugging each blossom with my awakening eyes.

I breathe in the sighs of each leaf as they shake off the dew of evening slumber.

 I smile as their upward lifted faces stretch like a cat to give thanks to the sun as it softly caresses them with the hope of a new day.

 I listen with delight as hummingbirds gracefully dance from blossom to blossom, kissing each cheek ever so gently with a promise of return.

 I am comforted yet energized as if feeling the pulse of ocean waves thundering to shore.

I feel alive and grateful for the blessing of today.

I bid my garden adieu with the same adoring promise of the hummingbird.

November 2, 2008