That Old Tree

It’s suddenly September and hints of autumn are in the air: the tree outside my window is reminding me of this daily! Rob returned from work travels late yesterday. While organizing one of our closets this morning (amidst our laundry party) we came across my old poetry book. Nearly every poem I’ve ever written is in this sacred little book!

I wrote the following poem in 2005, shortly after my Grandpa John passed away. The news of his passing came as a complete shock one autumn morning as my mom was on her way to visit me in London, Ontario where I resided at the time.

I have always expressed myself best, in reflection with written word — much more so than any immediate spoken word or action! Here is one of my poems from the little book, that I wrote in memory of Grandpa John a few short weeks after his passing.

That Old Tree

This morning,

the tree outside my window

Welcomed crisp the autumn dawn,

Boldly rustling in the sunrise

Accepting night was nearly gone.

A tree

of many colours;

Deep red and orange entwined.

With daybreak comes beginnings

and endings, some meet blind.

A lot

I’ve learned from listening

To the stories that tree has told –

Of summer rain and windstorms

to winters, ghastly cold.

Its leaves

once lush with life, now

fall from this mighty oak:

Red feathers in the sunrise

blanket hearts with life, revoked.

Next season

I’ll remember,

The strength of that old tree.

Through winter’s wrath it lives

in my fondest memory.

by Laura Gee, October 24th, 2005
in memory of John Arthur Gee (December 17, 1924 – October 05, 2005 ).