Prompted by Tree
This morning, I opted to join poet Kate Gray’s call-in space for writers (www.kategraywrites.com/event/writing-together-every-day-at-9am/). Every day, a short meditation, a prompt, and 20 minutes of silence to produce new writing. And to conclude, a poetry reading…today’s was “What Kind of Times Are These,” by Adrienne Rich: www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51092/what-kind-of-times-are-these …
Kate Gray, thank you. This call-to-write you organized is one of the best side effects of the coronavirus pandemic.
My friend Sequoia (www.medium.com/@sequoia.rudolph/grounded-by-fog-e5477fb87dd1) joined the call too. Her name turned out to be significant. The prompt was “tree.”
Here, after some music, for those who care about trees — and writing about them — is a short essay that arrived as I experienced the mass consciousness of other writers:
The T and t of tree. Lower case sapling tree on its way to uppercase Timeber (new word for mature tree). Oh, the letter T t –how it suits a tree.
The letter R r of tree may be a root, may be a branch. Oh, the letter R of tree — how it supports a tree.
The two E/e-s in “tree” — four strokes for an upper-case E, a spiral for the lower. Stand the E/e-plurals back to back: ƎE ɘe. Oh, what have we here? A grid, a foundation, a trunk: ƎE. A seed, a potential, leaves, or leaf: ɘe.
Dear tree-word,
How well your letters represent you!
Love, Mary
But what of sound? How do you sound as “tree?” How does the item, the object, the genus — not species — generate waves in the air? T — tuh, R — rrr, Ee — eeee. The writer of the word asks for alchemy — the arising of sound from ink on paper or pixel on screen for tree to sound itself into the minds of readers.
The sound of each letter creates your very cells, dear tree! The hard-working soldier cells of roots — absorbing water’s holy name, partnering with soil, enabling circulation as well as foundation. The guard cells of bark and trunk, stand-at-attention Royal Guards of cells that hold and allow honor and respect for your castle and stature. All the fluttering ƎE ɘe cells of leaves that kiss oxygen, release carbon dioxide, and photosynthesize the very mystery of fire and light and sun.
Let me spell you into a forest:
TREE TREe TRee Tree TreE TREe TrEE TReE TRƎE trɘe tree trEE tRree tREe treE TREE TREe TRee Tree TreE TREe TrEE TReE TRƎE trɘe tree trEE tRree tREe treETREE TREe TRee Tree TreE TREe TrEE TReE TRƎE trɘe tree trEE tRree tREe treETREE TREe TRee Tree TreE TREe TrEE TReE TRƎE trɘe tree trEE tRree tREe treE TRee Tree TreE TREe TrEE TReE TRƎE trɘe
Now let your forest cast a spell on Mother Earth and Her humanitree.
