ENTS,
I have written some poems that are somewhat related to trees in winter. I'm
sending you one - this poem is written in the persona of the main character of
2 science fiction novels I'm writing about an artist born in Chartres, France -
Chartres is a place I long to visit, a place I've studied a lot over many years
:
November Light
The light
through the cathedral windows of Chartres –
The light that
streams down through the clerestory of oak crowns in
Our natural cathedral
–
The stained
glass of Chartres that strains the light of celestial spaces
The golden,
russet leaves of ancient oaks that strain the light
Into cathedral
strands like stained glass
All are the same
light – leaves of oaks, windows of Chartres glow with
The same inner
light of gray November, the inner soul, light
Inwardly
directed,
Heaven in a
russet oak leaf drifting down from the old growth canopy
My earliest
childhood – the November sky of Chartres, later the November
Sky of the oak
grove – the light is the same
What am I but
the mud of Earth?
The seed of life
in November when Earth withers away?
Light – gray,
inner, of fallen leaves, of stone and wood
Cathedral spires
– medieval man, ancient trees –
Light that is
old and new, where heaven and Earth meet in
November rain,
sleet, leaves falling past saints and heroes –
Etched in
stained glass –
Past the Grecian
oak columns holding up the forest cathedral
Older than man
I must embody
all this to be a true poet, true artist
But the mud and cold
force me down
Yet I become the
celestial song of the withering
November
Earth.
Tom Howard
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