Response to exhibition: Tree Conversations: Networking with the wood wide web, installation view, Wagga Wagga Art Gallery, 2020

Think of Trees

as the spare bones of earth
stray phalanges the planet leaves up
after erosion, tectonic change pass by.
Maybe each forest is a nest sewn of wishbones
one the sky eyes carefully; or they’re machines
printing life’s fingerprints on landscapes
giving clouds somewhere to feel stroked
worthy of rain.

A stump is a plug, a sudden green joint
and despite its slow stillness, we yet put
our hands on them hoping to restart, trigger
up leaves, feel we are fertile; of value.

The trees do not speak, they just let us fell them
make ribcage houseframes. We helter, we skelter
we never let go their sheltering lifespans.
Their canopies breathe simple as light
how our few rough-lung decades should be.

By Jim Hyde