Urban Trees A WCC Poetry Club/ WCC Sustainability Literacy Task Force Anthology Edited by Tom Zimmerman
Urban Trees A WCC Poetry Club / WCC Sustainability Literacy Task Force Anthology Edited by Tom Zimmerman
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Acknowledgments Urban Trees is a joint production of the WCC Poetry Club and the WCC Sustainability Literacy Task Force, at Washtenaw Community College, Ann Arbor MI. Fonts used are Broadway and Calibri. Book design by Tom Zimmerman. Copyright © 2017 the individual authors and artists. The works herein have been chosen for their literary and artistic merit and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Washtenaw Community College, its Board of Trustees, its administration, or its faculty, staff, or students.
∞ Preface This project is the brainchild of Tom Zimmerman, an energetic and well-loved English professor and Director of the Writing Center at Washtenaw Community College. We give thanks to Tom for editing and to the Poetry Club he advises for assembling this collection of poems and photos on the topic of urban, or city, trees. The offerings celebrate the ability of trees to reduce air and water pollution, prevent urban flooding, decrease the temperature of cities, and provide food, shade and habitat for animals, including the human variety. And, they’re the place you meet your friends, leave your love-notes, park your bike and, well, why don’t you read on to find out? Happy Reading! Emily Thompson, Ph.D. Sustainability Literacy Task Force Chair The print version of this book has been made possible by the Sustainability Literacy Task Force at WCC.
Questions? Contact Emily at ethompso@wccnet.edu or Tom at tzman@wccnet.edu 4
Urban Trees A WCC Poetry Club / WCC Sustainability Literacy Task Force Anthology Contents—Words Diane M. Laboda
What Is This All About? Dali Meets Al Gore Matthew Trosper-Scherer The Only Commandment Beneath the Tree Jillian Henning Idle Witness Erica Morris Urban Conforming Tom Zimmerman Late-Night Thoughts on Urban Trees M.J. McDonald The First Priorities Lawrence Moebs 7 Tips for Planting Urban Trees Roots Wanda Kay Sanders Magnolias A Tree in Brooklyn Sierra Carignan Looking Out Faraz Ali An Urban Tree Imani Johnson Be My . . . Ayowole Oladeji Trees of the Forest Trees of Nature Lawson Vaughn Beneath the Earth Ron Pagerski Beneath the Tree Parker Mill Walk William Bullard Beneath the Trees A Meditation on Green: A Fragment Contents—Pictures Jillian Henning Imani Johnson Tom Zimmerman
12 23 All others
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6 8 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 22 23 24 25 26 28 29 30 31
Diane M. Laboda What Is This All About? Urban forest, city trees— two trees, four trees, six—for rest, shade and color, branches slide by the window trying to sense what species thrives inside, taps to wake the sentience within. Rural woods, country trees— two trees, four trees, six—owl’s home, eagle aerie, starling nest, leaves hide enchanted families, cradled songsters, whispered secrets of flight. City forest, urban trees— eight trees, nine trees, ten—carve our names inside a heart of forever, strip saplings down to heartwood so they never tell the tale. Country woods, rural trees— eight trees, nine trees, ten—saw and ax fell each cord, ready to stoke a wood stove fire, playing at caveman games over the spit. Urban forest, city trees— eleven trees, twelve trees, thirteen—struck down by the butcher’s blade to make way for communities of high beings and lowly thugs.
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Rural woods, country trees— eleven trees, twelve trees, thirteen—open to new roots, a network of voices run underground, fill in around the work of God.
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Diane M. Laboda Dali Meets Al Gore I turn an eye upon the earth, without training or malice, and see beyond the plastic-strewn atolls to a frothy, angry sea. With one eye on greed and the other blurred by convenience, I search for home among concrete corners devoid of soil. With one eye on fire and the other on a glass full of water, pleading its case before the whole fire hall, blackened and parched. One eye sees a sky full of trees and shingles, babies and crones, the other focuses on a single photo album, leaking faces. One eye sees cars like ants filling their underground nests, honking tunes of disbelief, vomiting marshmallow exhaust, fleeing blind. One eye sees the secret war of words, the other blinks at the flash. One eye sees the tangle of poets tearing out their hair in tufts and spewing salty lyrics.
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The other eye looks under the ozone bubble, hoping to find a seedling rising bravely from cracks in the pavement.
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Matthew Trosper-Scherer The Only Commandment Was the will to live of the oak so great That to fell his might would make twigs of your back so you bring a chainsaw to muffle the screams of the forest as you carve its children to make trash How many eons has nature stood by and allowed us to desecrate this bastion of life Our silent guardian, our selfless provider Do we not understand there is only one place so gracious As to allow our existence We call Her Mother Earth for a reason her womb surrounds us, sustains us, protects us And we are yet to be birthed in this gestation, we are destroying her Our industry a noose around her neck Our cities a rash upon her back How many known species have choked to death on our progress How many death rattles go unheard in the dark Our first and only mandate upon this earth is to guard nature at all cost to encourage its growth and diversity We have been charged from the beginning Have we lost sight of our task
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Matthew Trosper-Scherer Beneath the Tree The soft swish of long grass caresses my ears gently The sun plays sweetly with the swaying branches Soft beads of light dance across my face Spreading warmth wherever they rest Like a lover’s kiss before a long journey So perfect a fit in their place pressed so gently together It’s nearly impossible to tell when they break the feeling is so light and lovely As to leave behind nothing but sensation And want for more
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Jillian Henning Idle Witness See, hear, do nothing; No one sees, no one hears, no one does Anything to help The passive resistance. Skyscrapers dwarf the tallest of the redwoods, Roadways reach farther than the most extensive roots. The trees have taken a different route: Topiary gardens and Christmas decor. They react as humankind discovers. They feel as humankind destroys. They watch as humankind creates. They endure as humankind evolves. The reserved elder knows Nothing is not nothing. The young tender stalk follows Nothing is not nothing. If you listen close through the sound of traffic, You can learn from the whisper of the leaves, "Nothing is not nothing; Every breath is proof of our impact." Heed the words. Change is the only way forward; Take heart, Refuse to be the idle witness anymore.
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Erica Morris Urban Conforming Desirable, One head not two when sharing the same body. Trees and humans need to have a straight spine. Urban trees tend to be perfectly arranged to meet people’s needs. The unplanned ones are often aborted: these trees are only for show. If they are lucky they’ll be tagged, the plastic label needed to survive. Living without this label is like being born without a name or a purpose, which is to fit into a description of a map that dictates where all the seeds will land. And when that map becomes outdated, many will die without a name. The Mother Willow is no longer a mother. Her face has transformed into another urban tree.
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Tom Zimmerman Late-Night Thoughts on Urban Trees In last night’s storm, my neighbors’ tree broke easy as a man. I think of gods who broke on trees, but not for long: this blue spruce pilsner’s getting warm in front of me, and Leadbelly is singing “In the Pines.” I lie: a Russian stout and Beethoven are all I have tonight, but something deep in me blends metaphor with fact. So, yes, my hands are roots exposed to weather, accident. I’ve also thought of them as leaves. Who puts away Thoreau, town fool who wrote so beautifully, with other childish things? A good friend’s told me: in Iraq, a lovely woman’s called a date-palm tree. The city where I live is named for stands of burr oaks and two wives named Ann, or so the legend goes. The school where I teach poetry was once an apple orchard. Have we done enough to save the planet? Have I mentioned that my wife’s named Ann?
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M.J. McDonald The First Priorities The permanent crown Could be weakly attached Could put people or property at risk An effective way To reduce conditions: Removing The leader Treating defect by Removing The leader Establishes strong form early Promotes longevity Methods can be applied if needed To complete the job (The source of this found poem is the “Training and Pruning Trees for Strength, Clearance, and Aesthetics” page on the Urban Tree Foundation’s website: www.urbantree.org).
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Lawrence Moebs 7 Tips for Planting Urban Trees Strong trees have straight roots, a thick trunk with taper; and a good branch structure appropriate for the species Expose the root Loose soil promotes rapid root growth and quick establishment Backfill with soil removed from the hole. Minimize air pockets by packing gently and applying water Training young trees promotes structurally sound growth and overall tree health Staking holds trees erect and allows the root ball to anchor. Secure the trunk at the point where the root stands straight Mulch also helps prevent grass from competing with the tree for water and nutrients (The source of this found poem is the “Planting” page on the Urban Tree Foundation’s website: www.urbantree.org).
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Lawrence Moebs Roots “I grew up in the woods too!” he Proclaimed, too excitedly, bouncing on the Balls of his awkward, long feet, but I was not sure… “Near the woods, anyway. My house Was near the woods and that was where I spent My time; but I spent my time growing up, In the woods. So I grew up in the woods too.” He seemed to lean too far forward on his Feet when he spoke. And while it was clear he may Have spent his formative years removed somehow, Distant and maybe cut off, not well Integrated, I still had my doubts. The woods of my youth surrounded me completely, Expansive and without end. The house, Facing north, sat on a southward slanting Hill, full of uncovered windows: a third Floor deck in the tree-tops, first floor doorwalls That exited to mud and a downward slope of cherry Trees, sycamores, boxelders, and before the borers came, Ash. (Were they emerald or were the ashes?) One larger, heavier tree had fallen over In the wet ground near a spring and Its lifted roots made a sheltered cave. Two smaller trees side by side, were easiest And best to climb, their limbs and tops Drawn closer and connecting by my tugging Gravity. In solitude, I connected. “I grew up in the woods too!” he insisted, But I had my doubts, Was not so sure, on either count. 17
Wanda Kay Sanders Magnolias The tress have blossomed, petals fully open putting out their fragrance – magnolias in the summer sun. The southern air filled with tobacco smoke mixes with them. Fire on the rawhide stems ablaze as it wicks up to blackened foliage. The sounds of birdsong are replaced with ignored cries for mercy as the leaves turn to char, as the petals drop to the ground in clumps of floral flesh. The night air filled with pure stench and the white turned to the color of the darkened sky without stars. Soon they are gone – burned up into only ash. And all that remains is smoky rope and dried protoplasm, with lingering smell of magnolias and tobacco.
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Wanda Kay Sanders A Tree in Brooklyn Tree of Heaven why do you still grow? You resist both poison and the axe. Francie takes note of your branches. How deep your roots must be. The rings of your bark are many. They are wide and resilient. You drink of living water. You have no knowledge of another. Oh divine tree that scoffs at struggle. Watch us become as you. Our future is planted in the same soil. New shoots spring from our hearts.
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Sierra Carignan Looking Out There’s a tree outside my window It’s been there longer than I And will remain when I am gone I look at that tree every morning and every night For the inspiration of life Its dark trunk reminds me of my core With a deep rooted system That lies beneath the ground No sun can touch what it can’t see For the darkness only covers a small part of thee My beautiful tree, what perfect image you have The elements of the earth bless your existence Relief you give me because you’re always there Stationary, all night and day Till the storm comes and washes the leaves away Your branches signify the stages of life With each direction, a new path is made For you will never know the mistakes And the dead ends blocked Why do the days feel like nights? Life continues, and time fades away Gaining great heights we thrive Reaching toward the sun Because the only way to go is up Even when the weight of the world is dragging down
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There’s a tree outside my window That brings me peace, and listens when I talk It provides shade from the sun And shelter from the rain My protection, my shadow Thank you for being the tree outside my window
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Faraz Ali An Urban Tree It’s like a parent who cares for me Day by day, I need thee You always give me food And keep me in a good mood You protect me from the sun For when it’s too hot, it is to you I go run Whether morning, afternoon, evening or night I thank God truly for this wonderful site
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Imani Johnson Be My . . . Can you be my first sight in the morning, and my last at night? My right hand, holding anything in sight. Can you be my source of survival? Even on the days I’m spiteful. Can you be my source of air? Even when I don’t think you’re there. Can you set me free? Please be my urban tree.
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Ayowole Oladeji Trees of the Forest The jungle is completely bare Nothing but sand and rocks Suddenly downfall of rain Trenches the soft sand Within a second moment Trees begin to arise from the ground Growing taller and taller Each tree separate from the blazing sun Changing their green leaves To pink, white, red, and yellow As they appear so beautiful Shielded by the dark blue sky
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Ayowole Oladeji Trees of Nature Nature trees have a story Nice to observe and look at Trees protect us from the sun Feeling the soft touch on our bodies They are like decorations Surrounding the whole area As their leaves begin to shed Swaying and floating on air Thick and strong Protecting themselves from destruction Trying to be strong Trees stand their ground in battle
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Lawson Vaughn Beneath the Earth We all live beneath the tree known as the universe And one of its lively branches is Mother Earth Humans are a race that is so magnificent But compared to the galaxy we are so insignificant And those who feel different shouldn’t even be surprised Our galaxy is too vast and too wide But hold up, take a step back For all you know I could be talking out of my butt crack Like people who still believe the Earth is flat and not circular Even though you can look it up on the regular But I digress In all these words I stress And these topics I address Life is a mess So last but not least, God bless
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Ron Pagereski Beneath the Tree I thought of thee and how you were when first we met there. The rough acorns poking us through the forest lichen. You were young then and so was I and the world was our oyster. I wanted to know you better, but you wanted to just be friends. So we would meet there and talk of our future plans, our hopes and dreams. The tree was our safe place where we could distance ourselves from the world, our families, our other friends. One day we did not meet, I sat alone. Time and again I went to our tree but found you absent. Wandering through the thick, massive forest, I laid my eyes on you. And him. You had found a better tree.
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Ron Pagereski Parker Mill Walk I walked the path of Parker Mill, the wind cold on my cheeks. Alone I was, or so I thought. I was accompanied by trees, the wind, the melodious sound of the creek. I could almost hear voices in the wind. A passage in Shakespeare’s As You Like It speaks of voices in trees, music in running brooks, and sermons in stones. I was not alone. I had been allowed to enter a world very much alive. I was its guest. No formal invite had been given, no great banquet awaited me. But I was at a great feast—for the senses. A priceless few moments spent among creation, and I was an honored guest. Not among great men and skyscrapers, but among nature’s offerings in the cathedral of the forest. I often go to one of the parks to walk and just observe. It is a respite from the commotion of life just hundreds of yards away.
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William Bullard Beneath the Trees One of my favorite places to be beneath the trees is Walden Pond, an ancient place. It is a public park, actually. Immersed in that place of history, people come to follow the path around the pond, and also swim. Yet, you can go deep, go to where he lived—then go to where he went. You feel the trees—the ancient symbol—There is one in you. Do you know it? The philosophic tree. I feel it always. The last time I visited Walden Pond, I went by myself. There is a kind of ritual for Thoreau people. You go around Concord, so many lived there. You go to the cemetery, to see Authors Ridge, where they all are now. Then you might go to the Thoreau Lyceum. But, the greatest joy is going to Walden Pond—to be under the trees—to go where he went. I remember feeling that my psyche was alive, that the trees radiated wisdom—which they do. Natives called them the Standing Ones. I went to the cabin site. I then went down to the edge of the pond, just below the site, and sat on a railroad tie there. I have brought the image up many times. I wandered through the trees, going where he went. We all stand before—or under—a tree, if we will.
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William Bullard A Meditation on Green: A Fragment In the summer, my backyard is a symphony of green. It is encased in green. There is a green border around it so that it is very private. On one side, there is a row of pine trees. On the opposite side a densely wooded area creates a space in between my house and the next house. And, at the back of the yard is a high, dense hedge made of small trees and high bushes. A green lawn creates the floor. Three trees of good size dominate the yard. All of this green greets me as I sit on my deck overlooking the yard. As I sit and gaze at all of the greenery and all of the various plants, bushes and trees that make up the greenery, I always feel inspired and quite often meditative. Sometimes I just drink in the green, alternating between just surveying the yard and focusing on the trees, as if I am looking at works of art; sometimes I think deeply about the things that concern me; and sometimes I pass into a state of communion with the nature around me, and at the same time, the deeper parts of my unconscious. Moreover, I often end my time with quiet chanting. There are many constituents that contribute to my inspiration and entry into a meditation experience, whenever I sit on my deck and encounter the wonderful vision of green, and of the trees that inhabit my yard. For one thing, I immediately encounter a quaternity, when I sit and look at the three large trees that dominate my view. The quaternity that I experience is made up of the three trees and me; this relates to the Jungian concept of the four functions of the conscious mind. One function is the dominant function, and I represent that function. There are two more functions that can be visible or consciously accessible; and one function is hidden and not readily accessible to the conscious mind, and is connected to the deep unconscious. Two trees are visible to me as a sit on my deck, and there is one that is mostly hidden from my view, although I can see a bit of it. As I sit on my deck, I am affected by the feeling of this quaternity. Jung said that one can come under the influence of an archetype in the concrete world, as well as be affected by them internally, when one enters a circumstance that contains an archetypal factor. Furthermore, I once had a dream in which the back yard in the dream represented the unconscious, and the door to the back yard was the portal to the unconscious. In the dream, I met my anima figure at the door. Thus, I go into a 31
place, when I go into my back yard that represents a place where I can encounter the unconscious, and which actually can facilitate that experience. Beyond that, trees themselves are a powerful symbol. As I gaze and focus on the trees that I encounter, I cannot help but be aware of their symbolic significance. One of the most famous places where a tree appears as a significant symbol is in the book of Genesis. A tree appears in the center of the Garden of Eden, which is known as the Tree of Life. Adam and Eve are told, in the story, by God that they may eat freely fruit of the Tree of Life. In addition, in the tradition of Alchemy, the tree, called the Philosophic Tree, is a symbol for the Philosopher’s Stone, the goal of all the alchemical processes. Jungians indicate that all of these instances of the tree appearing as a symbol relate to the tree as a symbol of the Self, which is the archetype of the whole psyche, both conscious and unconscious, and thus includes the ego. The great Jungian process called Individuation, the achieving of wholeness, the great goal of all of the Hero Journey stories, includes the ego (conscious mind) achieving a full relationship with the Self; furthermore, Individuation means that the conscious mind manifests the whole potential of the psyche. A maple tree with an expanse of branches reaching out in a wide pattern, stands right in front of me, as I look out into my yard, and looks as if it is the Tree of Life. That makes the vision I see of my yard like a vision of Eden. This does have a strong effect on me. What is more, Jung indicates in his essay on fairy stories that the tree can be a symbol for the unconscious itself. In one story that Jung uses as an example, the magical story takes place when the hero of the story climbs into the upper reaches of a great tree. These upper reaches symbolize the inner reaches of the unconscious psyche. But there is still more here, because it is the greenery itself, along with the trees that creates the full power of my vision. Greenness is a very significant symbol. Jung says in one place, “Green is the color of the Holy Ghost, of life, procreation and resurrection.” Thus, green and greenness are closely related to the unconscious. It is, as Jung says, the color of life. Green is one of the predominant colors of nature. A forest can be filled with many colors, from many flowers, for example; but everything will be framed with green. The Jungian and Alchemical scholar Edward Edinger says that greenness is an important color in alchemy. An alchemical text says, “God breathed into created things… a certain germination of greenness, by which all things should multiply… they called all things green, for to be green means to grow.” Edinger 32
indicates that an alchemical text refers to green as the “benedicta veriditas,” which means the “blessed green,” and Jung indicates that the benedicta veriditas is a symbol for healing energy that is a part of the unconscious. From the way that Jung describes this, it is possible that this energy, for a man, may be related to the anima. Edinger talks about this as “the green one.” Thus, these references to greenness as being connected to the Holy Ghost and to healing energy in the unconscious firmly connect greenness to outer growth in nature, but also to inner growth and inner health. This is obvious to me, and I can know and feel this as I encounter the greenness that I see in my yard. There is always a sense of life and growing. And, as it is the way of the unconscious and the archetypes that inhabit it, if I encounter something in the outer world that is a symbol of something archetypal in my inner world, they will connect; and, thus, the outer will activate the inner, and further inner growth can occur. This can occur even if one is not aware of what is going on, or even if one doesn’t know anything about a symbol; but I am aware, and I do know the symbol. That can make the experience more intense. Greenness itself and trees are symbols that are deeply intertwined with inner and outer elements. Greenness and trees are part of the earth, and earth is one of the four elements of creation that are a part of many traditions, including Alchemy. All of these constituents are a part of my experience, but there is still something else at play, in all of this, for me. This relates to the myth of Demeter and Persephone. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest, or as Jungian scholar Gareth Hill indicates, the great goddess of nature. Persephone, the goddess of flowers, was Demeter’s daughter, and was also the daughter of Zeus. Persephone was abducted by Hades, the god of the underworld, who made her his queen. Because of this, Demeter, who was Zeus’s sister, was so consumed by grief that nothing would grow. This pushed Zeus to try to rescue Persephone, and return her to her mother. However, Hades tricked Persephone so that she had to live in the underworld for part of each year. The rest of each year she could live with her mother. Summer is part of the time during the year that the story says that Persephone lived in the upper (outer) world. The story of Demeter and Persephone is related to the cycle of the seasons, and of the yearly rebirth of nature. Furthermore, Jung indicates that, for a man, Persephone is a symbol of the anima. I know that the psychological reality in this story touches my deep psyche as I am enveloped by greenness. I feel the aspect of rebirth and renewal keenly when I think that 33
summer means that Persephone is living outside the underworld. In her “Hymn to the Holy Ghost,” philosopher and mystic Hildegard of Bingen declares, “From you the clouds rain down, the heavens move, the stones have their moisture, the waters give forth streams, and the earth sweats out greenness.” When I sit on my deck surrounded by greenness, with my worldview dominated by three trees, I am embedded in the whole power and history of what greenness and trees symbolize. All of this is the life force and the life current. All of that is both within me and outside of me; and it is me. The earth sweats out greenness as the clouds rain down what is above. This is creation. Greenness is the result of the creative process, and that process happens within and outside humankind. And so, I know this as I watch the earth sweat out greenness. (First appeared in the WCC Poetry Club anthology Green.)
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A WCC Poetry Club / WCC Sustainability Literacy Task Force Anthology Washtenaw Community College, Ann Arbor MI