Susurrus
Susurrus
by Laura Summerville Reed
Her sweeping branches spread out,
Down, and back again like the arms of a goddess matriarch
The live oak, Majesty of the South
She doesn’t drop her leaves to the autumnal chill
She doesn’t cease her thirst for drink
Unlike her sisters, red oak, white and pin
Who shut down; giving way to grays and drear
She keeps and keeps and keeps
There is no waste in her
Not until she feels the velvet ache
The tender newness beneath her hide
Like a thousand teething infants
(and she, the mother of every one)
Then she’ll unclasp each tiny petiole
And let the mantle fall about the ground
The trappings she wears are a deep golden green
She basks in warmth year round
To a tune set in three-season time
Her suitors are sunshine and sweet rolling rain
And the occasional jealous lover,
Hurricane
She’s a southern gal, full of charm and allure
Her gray and furrowed bark is adorned with lace
Tucked here and there like a grandmother's handkerchief
She plays a lovely host to the ferns and the moss
That require nothing but her endurance and the air
Lovers leave their calling cards
Etched upon hardened heart
And old men entwine silver beards
Full of dreams, both won and lost
I’ve sat nestle in the curve of your leafy womb
When my soul needed solitude
I’ve skinned my knees and elbows
Simply for the joy of climbing you
I’ve tasted the shakers of sunshine you sprinkle
Through the tops of your breezy boughs
And dared gravity to question me
On my quest to grab a cloud
I’ve listened close to your rustling whisper
A lover’s voice, raspy into my ear
A whisper sweet
Susurrus
©LSR2010
