Longing for snow

How linear. The rain Which washes the trees, Also washes the frog and me. We stare at one another, The tree buds eyes, The frog bubbles up to sing. Emerald light dissolves All that is green and dancing; The buds open a little, and close, We all should sleep in this cold. Straight to the […]

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the days will grow longer

the trees wore white like brides of the hoarfrost, standing tall under the veil of the pale cloud-intoned sky. not only the pines, birches and maples, and lindens, and aspens, even the spruces had dressed their hands in white spikes to pierce the shorter days of the year. an unobtrusive sun peeked over the treeline […]

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to a tree in September

You too grow yellow as the sun enters the equinox. The shadows cut sharp against the pale clouds merged with the haze Where the sea breathes Another storm. Your branches lose the whispering weight and turn to silver. Chattering starlings come and throng away whistling an almost wedding song. The seeds have scattered for small […]

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Translating verticality

I am Vertical   by Sylvia Plath   Es stāvu uz augšu But I would rather be horizontal. Bet ļoti gribas būt šķērsām. I am not a tree with my root in the soil Es neesmu koks, kas izlaidis saknes Sucking up minerals and motherly love Iesūc vielas un mātišķu mīlestību, So that each March […]

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how linden trees give names

they (the linden trees) are gnarled and crabby, and craggy, and at least a hundred years old. we (the people) are crabby and smooth, and the wrong shape, and too quick to die. they observe us when we come within their range of perception. they think slowly, arboreally. they write their observations into their time-lines […]

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