Cottonwood Dance (a tricube)
even when
other trees
stand stock still
cottonwood’s
leaves shimmer
and glimmer
as they dance
to silent
breeze-music
(c)Mary Lee Hahn, draft
One perfectly still evening last summer, as I stood in our back yard, I happened to look down the easement and notice the cottonwood that sends her wads of floating seeds our way every spring. Taller than the rest of the trees, her crown was still lit by the almost-setting sun, and although there was not even a breath of a breeze, the cottonwood leaves were DANCING! It felt like the tree could hear a music that was being played only for her. Since then, I’ve looked for other cottonwoods around town. There’s one near my health club, and although she’s nearly bald now, her remaining leaves, too, dance to a music I can’t hear and a breeze I can’t feel. It’s magical, and a great reminder to stop and look up.
Tracey has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Tangles and Tails.
The photo is via Unsplash.
Magical dancing cottonwood! I love it. She’ll be shimmying again in no time. xo
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You and Amy both wrote about cottonwood trees and how they move! Cottonwoods must have something special about them. They are the reason I have an inhaler and an epipen…I should learn to ID them instead of just trying to stay away!
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I could not be happier that we are both enchanted by dancing cottonwoods this week! Noticing what you notice makes me think I am living right. This is so cool as a tricube. xo, a.
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Same, Amy. Same. I love noticing what you notice…and writing about it…in the same week!
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This is the week of cottonwoods! I love how you speak of these trees as people, women, dancing, nearly bald.
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It just feels so wrong to refer to a tree as an IT. They are so full of life, so patient and giving…they must be female, right?!?!
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Wow! Didn’t know this about cottonwoods. Wish I could see one in person. Thanks for capturing the magic of dancing leaves in your poem.
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Your poem lands like a revelation, Mary Lee. It is striking in its clarity. The words delight. It deepens my on-going love of trees. Thank you for sending these words out into the world. This one goes into my notebook…
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I love breeze-music. I didn’t know about cottonwood trees until our Pacific Northwest trip when there were tuffs of “cotton” everywhere.
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Mary Lee, the ending stanza of your poem provides both visual beauty and a musical mood. It makes me want to glimmer and shimmer along with you.
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There is a town in Arizona — Cottonwood, AZ — The whole town dances!
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Your poem is magical, as are cottonwoods.
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