My Tree
Conchita Aguirre Dowling
From all the oaks that embellish the valley,
I selected one in the hills to be "my oak tree."
It sounds silly, but for it, I feel the
pride of possession, and mentally I turned it into an
enchanted tree. I am sure the oak is happy too and will
tell the wind "go and whisper to my relatives that a
girl, a few centuries my junior has asked me to be her tree".
Its roots are beautifully twisted gnarled old
arms embracing the earth, and protective, sheltering all
the little creatures that I create in my drawings.
Insects, elves, pretty girls, "non-such-animals", shells
and eyes, watchful eyes........
A giant, a good old giant, and in the middle of
it all a unicorn, pleasant, elegant in profile like almost
all the unicorns are, "their good photogenic side, like the
movie stars". Maybe for enhancing the beauty and uniqueness
of their horn. It is surrounded by shells, prehistoric
fossils, pearls and aquatic plants reflected in a pond.
The branches, strong and forked, enjoying their
old-age, are, I imagine, aware of their geometry and beauty,
proud of their angular elbows against the changing lights
of day and night and seasons.
And for tonight, I hung up in my tree a slender,
adolescent crescent moon like in the Persian miniatures
and a few stars for a background.
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