A Poem a Day (628): NaPoWriMo Day 1 - A tree, faraway (in childhood)

 
NaPoWriMo Day 1 
 
The prompt: write a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked, but that you haven’t read in a long time.

 
A tree, faraway (in childhood)
 
Dry bark flakes, but not so much
as to lose its shape, the echo inside,
this wise roundness, the eternal line
of it, a rushing sound, so precious,
of the life-giving sap that flows, vibrating,
carrying every word, the language of
the flickering fae between the branches
of the glorious, high-stretching trees.
All around, the forest glows verdant,
green moss transporting, communicating.
 
He perches out on a limb, surveying it all,
the sights, the sounds, the subtle waves
of the lush leaves warming on the breeze.
Dame Washalot bustles to her window.
A scream, and the people below sidestep fast
to avoid the slush, the flush, the bubbly
flood of dirty dishwater cascading down.
The red squirrel halts, flicks his bushy tail,
stares up, tiny black eyes on full alert,
tufted ears pricked, paws up, freeze-frame.
 
On the grassy ground, children gather, a trio,
all scabby knees, jagged elbows, unkempt hair,
patched clothes; eyes not long devoid of sleep.
The notes of their recognisable jabber float,
carried up on the back of the circling wind.
It’s time to climb, so up they go, branch
by sturdy branch, steady and true, each one
wondering which land they’ll find today
right at the very top. Those turning worlds,
alternating, vibrating to a sudden halt.
 
Moonface can’t help but smile full-shine
as he watches them make their way.
He knows it’s the World of Topsy Turvey
that waits and the secret is pressing,
but he’ll keep it. Red squirrel bounds up
to sit beside him. Silky waves her dusky wand,
her laughter sparkling like water gushing,
a waterfall of stars dancing round her skirt.
Moonface takes her hand and they rise to greet
the three explorers expectant of magic.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 1, 2024