Singing Trees

Published on 13 February 2024 at 12:04

Nature Poetry - A Villanelle

A pastoral poem exploring the relationship between humans and nature, romanticizing the ideals of a simple country life.


I went to the trees just to hear them sing

A song so sweet unheard by queens or kings.

The morning dew on tufts of grass hide them –

The bugs scatter as it glitters – a gem!

I hear its laboured breath – a gust of smoke

Belched out by it, its sick, and then I spoke.

“As it is, quiet beasts live so happy

Yet you vile box sunder the peace, you see,”

I said within my black heart, stood by a tree.

Days past such noise meant shouts of “witch” went free.

Then dead was the widow with the small smile

Who cared for plants – her loud songs had such guile!

The trees are green away from the vile box,

The birds fly whilst the steps of the red fox

Creep off carefree – the grass is longer here,

The breeze in these trees that I hold so dear.

I went to the trees just to hear them sing

To feel the warmth and joy they have and bring!

The rolling hills seem grand, oh my heart soars.


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