Trees talk.
Conifers converse.
So do evergreens ever shut up?
Or do eucalypts evoke?
Do beech and birch trees
blather and babble?
Do pine trees
permanently prattle,
or tall trees
tittle-tattle?
Silently they do,
through fungal threads.
Moist underground,
a tangle of mycelium,
like mushroom wires,
like strands of chemistry,
sends messages,
warnings and nourishment.
From root to root.
From tree to tree
en-route connecting
their own internet community.
Photo from Pixabay
Howling winds
from raging seas,
relentless, wild,
distort the trees.
Stunted growth
in salty air,
in sandy soil,
forlorn and bare.
Yet even here
we find beauty,
in harsh and tangled
symmetry.
The start of Summer for me
Means tea under the Jacaranda tree.
Sitting on a carpet of purple flowers
I can read and dream for hours.
The birds tweet from on high
As I wave the blossoms goodbye.
The months become colder
I will turn a few months older.
Soon another year will go
Again, the Jacaranda will grow.
Original artwork by Gemma Creegan
I wandered in a forest deep
and found this ancient tree.
Two thousand years it’s grown here;
lots more it well might see.
They said it’s called a Beech,
born in forests long ago,
before Antarctica
had turned to ice and snow.
Teacher’s note: Lamington and Springbrook National Parks are located on the Scenic Rim of the Gold Coast hinterland. Two hundred and twenty-five million years ago, the continents of South America, Africa, Australia and Antarctica, along with India, New Zealand, Madagascar and Arabia made up a single land mass called Gondwana. When Gondwana broke up 120 million years ago, Australia remained attached to Antarctica. Seventy million years ago, when Antarctica was covered with rainforests, Australia separated and moved north. This Antarctic Beech has survived to this day. Sadly much of the ancient rainforest was lost to logging in the 19th Century.
Home to birds and bugs.
Wasps, spiders, grubs and tree house.
Empty when wasps feed.
(In response to Prompt #5)
They stand in desert heat and chill,
Needles drooping as in sleep,
Millions of them resting still
Upon the vast red plain.
Invincible, their roots run deep,
And after fire they grow again.
In response to TREES Prompt
Cutting through tree-trunks
from bark to bark,
we’ll see lots of circles
in light-wood and dark.
Light-coloured bands
mostly grow summer-spring
while autumn to winter
grows thin, darker rings.
Tree-rings grow wide
when it’s wetter and hot,
but tend to grow narrow
whenever it’s not.
Decoding these bands
in an ancient tree
can tell us the climate
historically!
First published in Double Helix (Oct 2021)
Reproduced with permission of CSIRO Double Helix
Hold me, hold me, hold me tight,
I get frightened in the night
by those birds and possums too,
I feel safe when I’m with you!
First, they listen to the wind’s ideas
and take notes.
They suck nutriment from the soil
but never forget their manners.
They bathe regularly in rain
and soak their feet in special solutions.
Measuring distances from star to star
they dream of universal travels.
Also, they touch each other kindly
and play host to thousands of guests.
Jenny said: This poem was published in 1993 in a booklet I prepared and printed myself, to share with children as I spoke to them in schools about the mystery and magic, the pure possibility, of poetry. The poems had originally been written for other children, in response to their requests for a poem on a topic they liked. I had created a business called Poetic Licence and apart from lots of work in schools (via three agents) I also worked at festivals as a roving performer (writing on the spot about anything suggested by those I accosted) at literacy camps, on tour along the Murray River, in country towns and suburbs in Victoria, at writers festivals for children, at Georges and David Jones for special occasions, and at private celebrations, and at schools and the fringe festival in the Kimberleys.
The mother was a ghost gum,
a really terrific tree-mum.
The father was a noble oak,
a shining prince of tree-dom.
You’d think with a family tree like that,
the offshoot would have to be a winner.
Instead he was a toothpick,
who lived in fear of dinner.
Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.
Australian Children’s Poetry 