For Daughters

I won't go into why a casual friend --
single mother with a daughter caught
in the physical and emotional
fears of becoming a woman,
would ask me to write something --
for a girl I had never met ...

but I did, and now dozens of mothers
have asked to use this piece --
though most hide the fact
that it was written by a grandfather ...

faucon
..................................................................

TREE DREAMS

Everyone thought that Amy was very shy, or didn't like to talk much.

Talk - walk - wall - call - ball - bill - fill - filly - silly - willy - will - wall - walk - talk.

"Grown-ups are like that -- always a 'reason' for everything. You would think that someone would ask -- would care enough, be curious enough to … Well it didn't matter -- they wouldn't believe me anyway."

Amy was quiet because she was listening. She didn't have to talk to be understood. They didn't have to have a reason for being. They were the reason for being. They were trees.

Seed - root - stalk - stem - trunk - branch - bower - flower - flow - know

Yes they knew -- everything. For they were not just trees -- they were THE trees. And they had moved close to Amy, for she believed. And they sang. And she heard. Then she knew too.

Feel the kiss of brave cloud shine
That turns the lake on its side.
If the yearning water falls
Into my hands and heart
I laugh and dance.

"There is nothing like hugging a tree. A touch of Earth drawing up energy from ancient trust and tomorrow's dream. Today they hide me from the rain, the interlocking branches forming a natural thatch. The peaceful incense from the towering ruddy trunks is caressed by the gentle breeze and shields against the intrusive scents from the outside world. With the new aroma arising from the earth the fragrance of the berry-brush, pine, and ivy lawn seem intensified. Oh, hear the thunder roll and grumble. There! A finger of lightning feeling its way to earth, branching -- searching. One thousand-one, one thousand-two, one thousand three ... Wow, that was close.

Breathe with me Dear Lord. Enlighten me Father. Protect me Mistress Moon. Walk with me Mother Earth. I wish so that I were grown -- yet perhaps only as a child do I hear the whispers. Better than hearing the hurt -- the sadness. Why can’t we just stand in the rain and wash all of our pains away, down, down to the oceans of our birth? Could a new flower then burst forth in our hearts every day? Would I have the courage to make a gift of the blossom to someone special -- perhaps someday."

She picked a flower from beneath her beloved trees and drew it to her ear -- trembling. Unknown emotions washed over her.

"tell me -- whisper of love to me"

The blossom trembled too, but did not mind being picked if it could serve -- to sing.

“Love is not a feeling; it is a way of acting toward another.”

Chimes tinkled from the dripping dew…

“Let each who come to you leave with greater happiness and a sense of well being."

Tree branches bowed and waved in joyful play -- responding to a breeze -- a thought not felt on cheek or golden hair.

"They will know it in your smile, your stance, and in your eyes.”

The flower wilted then, and died. In its place were two caterpillars -- fuzzy, twisting -- a tickling touch of hope and prayer. Amy giggled -- and sighed. "I will be a little girl for a while more, I think. I am not ready yet to become a butterfly."

She placed her tiny friends gently on a tree -- they would be safe. For a brief instant she had seen -- had known -- had touched the pulse of humanity. Then, with the growing splendor of the sunset, she left the hidden glade.

Walked away -- out -- back. Back to look through the excitement of a young woman's eyes. To swim in the calm between -- little girl or proud female spirit? Ever both. With the trees she -- knew and understood.

Then with a skip and hop -- she forgot.