Oak and Beech

We step off the track and onto the field, to gather beneath an old oak tree.  Like children, we gaze into its canopy, and watch the flickering light spill down through the leaves.

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I look out across the field

to a beech that stands alone.

I walk towards its prescence,

and dip below its heavy boughs

where the ground is dry

and the air is still.

Within the bounds of this trees’ reach,

I’m grounded by its great endeavours,

my feet rooted in the brittle earth.

13 thoughts on “Killegar

  1. Thank you for posting, Ashley.
    Wonderful words and phenomenal photo; it is almost as being there – in another time.
    Very best wishes for A Merry Christmas and a Happy, peaceful and prosperous New Year.

  2. Thanks, Martin. I was in the area in September learning how to collect tree seeds (with Woodlands of Ireland) and it’s taken all those weeks for the poem to be written. Not sure which is worse, climbing a mountain or writing a poem! Hope you’re enjoying this mid-winter time with the prospect of more daylight. Glad Yule.

  3. I was looking back through some of your old posts and paused here because I very much like your poem and was struck by the symmetry and shape of the old beech tree. Would that more humans had such nobility of character!

    1. Thank you for your comments! I’m drawn to trees, from the smallest sapling to magnificent trees like the beech tree above; this one is not particularly old but its prescence in the middle of the field spoke to me!

    1. Dear Corinne, thank you for your wonderful comment. This beech tree was magnificent and as I walked beneath its branches its presence crackled, just like the sound of my feet on the dry ground.

    1. It was just such a beautiful beech tree! Standing beneath it reminded me of a childhood of climbing trees, something I couldn’t do now. Thank you for your lovely comment 🌹🙋‍♂️

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