Poetry Tree
A poem by Robin Gabbert

Poetry Tree

When I was 15, the girl with glasses,
not thin, head always in a book,
my favorite haunt was a large old oak,
deep in my small southern woods—
a secret spot for seclusion. After school,
I’d climb into her limbs and lay
stretched across a sturdy branch,
strong enough to hold me but pliable
enough to be swayed by the tranquil breezes
on a balmy afternoon.

We exchanged secrets.
I knew they were safe
in her leafy embrace.
Who would she tell?
The brushy-tailed squirrel
who hopscotched through
her branches? The yellow moon
who came to call after I had gone?

No, there was a trust between us—
whispered by the wind, confirmed
by the coniferous pines surrounding us.
I distrusted only the Spanish moss
whose spiraled gray gnarls spoke of
questionable entanglements
and covert collaboration with chiggers.

Many days were spent stretched out in full
on the largest of the lower limbs,
letting the soft wind clear
the internal moss from my mind. Always
hoping for that dreamlike state that envelops
before sleep — the place poems are born.

About the Author:

Robin Gabbert has poems published in state, national, and international anthologies. Her book Diary of a Mad Poet came out in 2020 and a book of ekphrastic poetry — The Clandestine Life of Paintings, in Poems in 2022. Available on Amazon or via robinpoetry @ gmail.com. Robin lives in Santa Rosa with her husband Con and pup Hamish. You can find her on Facebook at Robin Gabbert Poetry or at her website: http://www.DiaryofAMadPoet.com. 

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