the fog

when you wake up in a cloud, a pea-soupy shroud, thinking out loud…
it’s easy to dismiss the day, bury your head, grab more sleep
but the clock ticks away, there are bills to pay, promises to keep

~kat

Sometimes a glimmer can be bittersweet. Today I mourn the removal of the ash tree that first greeted us when we moved to the mountains nearly 5 years ago. It was clear she was on her last legs. Each spring her blooms and leaf sprouts became less and less. This year it was time for her to move on. But not before leaving me with a heart shaped burrow into her trunk. I have no idea how the layers of bark wore away so perfectly. Whether it was a creative insect or a bird that burrowed this simple message. But I like to think she knew how much I loved her… of course I told her so. (Don’t you talk to your trees? If not, you should…and give them a hug if you’re so inclined.)

A nice man and his son happened by looking for work. He’s a tree trimmer by trade and offered his services for a number of trees on our property. He was hungry, he said, and needed the work. He pleaded in broken English (obviously not his native language). After quoting us a very fair price, we hired this man and his son to help us put my heart tree to rest. They worked meticulously, moved the timber to the edge of the woods and cleaned up the debris. We parted ways with a promise to hire him in the future to trim other trees in need of TLC.

The side yard where the tree once stood looks barren now. Ironic how the removal of a barren tree can make an area look more barren. I plan to plant a few trees in its stead. A magnolia, dogwood, or maybe a weeping cherry tree. Ash trees do not do well in this area.

The crows are most upset by her removal. She was their favorite perch. We had many conversations, me on my back porch and them, high above surveying their peanut station, letting me know when it was running low. They gave me quite a talking to yesterday evening from the nearby hickory trees. I hope they forgive me.

Things change…life goes on and the timber of this great old tree will return to the earth becoming shelter for small critters, and food for fungus, lichen, moss and insects. Even in death we, like this old tree have the potential to leave glimmers behind.

Much love, peace , and bittersweet glimmers to you!

~kat ✨✨✨💚💚💚✨✨✨

Sijo

A sijo is a traditional Korean poetic form, characterized by its three-line structure. Each line typically contains 14-16 syllables, resulting in a total of 44-46 syllables for the entire poem. The first line  is introduces a theme or situation, the second line develops it, and the third line introduces a twist or unexpected turn, providing the poem’s conclusion.