Lyrical Musings an emotional journey via train of thought

Anum of the Picea Glauca

November 14th, 2016

This was it; this was the year! She could feel it in her bones or if you wanted to be so semantic (although, that wasn’t typically a characteristic sported by most trees), branches. She had been waiting for this year all her life despite her family members warning her that she would never be the prized holiday tree to overlook thousands of onlookers during the winter season. Still, she persisted in belief and in growth.

Year after year, she had crept up, slowly surpassing her other brothers and sisters, even her parents in height. She was a white spruce, and while most people found her kind to be perfectly good to decorate a small city square, no one believed a white spruce would once again grace the world-renowned Rockefeller Center.

For the last decade or so, her growth had slowed. She was over 70 feet tall, an impressive feat for any tree, let alone a white spruce. But it wasn’t enough to be chosen for Rockefeller Center, not when a Norway spruce could be tens of feet taller!

While she would previously have spurted two feet higher annually, the recent years saw only a fraction of that growth. Her neighbors thought her growth was done, and she should accept her fate as the tallest tree in the forest.

But she wasn’t happy with that, and she willed herself to grow taller, her trunk to grow wider. Her needles had a blue hue that she was positive would reflect twinkling strands of lights in a way that passersby would “Ooh” and “Aah” over if only they were given a chance. She just knew it!

So she hoped, and she grew, little by little. And the miraculous happened: she grew a lot by a lot. Suddenly, she was growing an extra inch a month. In the past year’s time, she had shot up three feet to a whopping 76 feet tall. Any taller, and she would have been too tall to squeeze into the New York city streets she would need to navigate to reach her destination. Like that, her growth slowed.

This was why she knew that her time had come. At her final height, she towered above the other white spruces in the forest and even some of the Norways, too! She could see for miles, and she stood contentedly for weeks, her trunk full of the quiet self-assurance one possesses once they finally see the goal in sight.

She was among the first trees in the thicket to see the helicopter coming. She saw it well before she heard it hovering en route and long before she felt the vibrations-turned-gusts overhead. She watched in determined silence at it approached, without a peep to her friends or family. It had been years since she mentioned her heart’s quest to anyone. Not her mother, now brittle with age, nor her best friend, a beautiful fir over whom she now towered, knew her truest desires until the people approached.

And as a representative surveyed the crowd, focusing on the Norway spruces, she didn’t discourage. Instead, she puffed out her needles and gently shook her branches as though a breeze had appeared. There was none. But her preening was enough to get him to glance in her direction, and the tree knew she had succeeded.

The man walked closer, and the tree did her best to send welcoming waves in his direction. She straightened her posture and extended her branches like a carefully-trained ballerina. This was her year.

So she wasn’t surprised when the man picked up his device and spoke.

“’Ey boss, we’ve got a looker over here.”

Still, she couldn’t hold back her excitement. He liked her!

So did the “boss,” who nodded his approval and made a notation on his sheet of paper (some trees liked the utilitarian nature of becoming paper, but that was never in the books for this tree).

The boss man carefully looped a ribbon around one of her lower branches, and she shivered with anticipation. He looked up as she did, seeing a ripple of blue-green needles amid an otherwise still forest.

And then he left. That’s when her panic set in. Didn’t he like her? She was so tall, so blue, so strong! She’d done everything she could, and more than anyone thought she was able to! This was supposed to be her year.

If a tree could brood, this one did. She sulked, her branches dipping toward the ground as the sun fell lower in the sky. This was her year, damn it!

Her anxiety grew throughout the evening; her panic became nearly palpable as the moon rose and set, then the sun returned once more. But with the sun returned the man with the clipboard and the helicopter. This time he brought with him an entourage in hard hats with tools at their sides. A massive machine was driving toward her.

This really was her year! She practically beamed; although, trees have no face, so that’s fairly improbable.

The men approaching the tree did so carefully with a sort of reverence. This was the one tree that was good enough to be transported to Rockefeller Center, and it had to be treated with care so that it wouldn’t be damaged during the moving process.

The men carefully pulled her upper branches upward and bound them with help from the vehicle that lifted them to her uppermost branches. The lift allowed removing some of her lowermost branches, the tree’s first experience with a saw. At first, it tickled. The pain followed. But she gritted herself. This was her year, she reminded herself.

The men wrapped the lowest remaining branches protectively and secured her with the assistance of the machine, which she heard them call a “crane,” before getting down to the real sawing. This was more painful, the most painful thing she’d ever experienced, and it took much longer than removing a few branches.

Still, she knew it was necessary for her to become the holiday tree that would adorn Rockefeller Center, so she bore it with grace.

Eventually, it was over, and she barely rested on her stump. The tree could no longer feel her roots; it was so foreign. She wished she had relished the feeling for the last time, but she was so overwhelmed with the entire process. Before long, she was being carefully lowered, then placed atop the trailer that would haul her to Rockefeller Center.

It was disconcerting to be on her side. She no longer could see for miles. The truck rumbled, and she felt helpless the way she was bound, yet she knew it was for her protection.

Trees don’t have a sense of time the same way that people do, but this tree’s final destination couldn’t come soon enough. Long after the truck’s engine had been cut, the tree remained shaking with anticipation. But the process of lifting the tree from the trailer and standing her upright was as least as long and arduous as the process of getting her on there in the first place.

The excited tree was finally at Rockefeller Center! And as she was raised, she could look on with awe at Manhattan sprawled around her. The tree had never seen a city before and certainly not one of this magnitude. There were people everywhere, already hustling and bustling to and fro. Cars filled the streets.

The tree had grown accustomed to the dulcet tones of the man who was in charge, the one who had taken note when he had seen this tree for the first time. But there was nothing that could truly prepare this tree for the sights and sounds surrounding her.

There was so much light and even more noise. It was deafening, but the tree found it exhilarating. She could not have imagined what it would really be like to live in Rockefeller Center, even if it was the last part of her life.

And she was already feeling a disconnect with the living world she had previously known. The tree had lost her roots, literally. She had shed more needles at one time than ever before in her long life. She was cut and scratched. But she was ready. After all, this was her year!

The white spruce was distracted by the thriving city around her, so she didn’t realize when she was finally hoisted and secured into place. The truck and trailer that had carted her in had departed, and the crowd of workmen had thinned.

Finally, no wires were holding her branches up. The tree stretched her stiff limbs and unfurled her boughs for the last time. She extended outward toward buildings, happy to finally be free and standing at Rockefeller Center.

The beautiful tree gazed around her, spreading her branches like open and loving arms and towering like a friendly giant above the people far below her. They glanced up in awe, just like the tree knew they would. She preened once again for anyone who would look in her direction.

This year might be her last but, finally and triumphantly, it was her year.

I Miss Him

September 27th, 2016

I miss him
with the strong jaw, the smiling eyes and the tousled hair
I miss him
with the childlike grin and long, lithe fingers
I miss him
all 6-foot-3 and gangly arms
I miss him
with his perfect wordplay and youthfulness
I miss him
with his high cheekbones

I miss the way
he made me felt kind
I miss the way
I felt truly loved for the first time
I miss the way
we fell into bed together
I miss the way
we had to pry away from one another
I miss the way
he slipped his arm around me so easily

I miss all of those hims
and I will miss another again
and again

There will always be a him
and I will always miss him

Or Does It?

March 15th, 2016

It didn’t really matter, did it

That you were seven years my junior

It didn’t really matter, did it

The distance between us

And it didn’t matter

I hadn’t heard your voice

or touched your skin

or hadn’t yet saw the way you rolled your eyes when you laughed

you roll your eyes when you laugh

None of that mattered to my heart

Because it knew you

before I knew any of those things

And I needed to sadly for you to know me, too

It didn’t really matter, did it

that none of that would happen

It didn’t really matter did it,

that fate had a different plan

And it didn’t matter

that I was getting ahead of myself

counting all my chicks before they hatched

imagining impossible futures

and setting myself up for inevitable failure

Because I wanted so much for it to be true

for you to be the one

and for my wait to finally be done

It didn’t really matter, did it

And it doesn’t really matter now

Old Age

February 25th, 2016

My bones creak
they haven’t always
and they feel just fine in between
the squeaking
and the pain
but I don’t think my bones will ever be silent again
Because I am getting older
and your are getting older even as you read this
Maybe you creak too
Perhaps you can’t hear it
over the sound of your own thoughts
My brain used to be that loud
but now it’s quieter
and my bones creak

Deja Vu

February 25th, 2016

I remembered you today
For the first time in months
or has it been years?
I can’t recall
but I remembered you today
and then I remembered
the person I used to be
at the time when
I would never be able to
forget you
And now I’ve forgotten you long enough
to remember you today

Secondhand Opinion

February 14th, 2016

I could sing you a song

about how you’ve done me wrong

Try to use my words to show

but I think we both know

I could put it all in letter

but someone else has already done it better



I could add my voice to the heartbroke chorus

Everyone who came before us

Spin a tale about heartbreak and loss

and wonder if it’s worth the cost

But I’m not even that clever

and someone else has already done it better


I could devise a devious plan

find a way to force my hand

Try to win you over with time

Do everything in my power to make you mine

Promise to love you better

but someone else has already done it better


Maybe I’ll cut to the chase next time

I won’t be so blind or pretend you’re kind

Recognize the blame is only mine

if I put my heart on the line

Break my own heart until it’s shattered and severed

but someone else has already done it better

et tu

January 31st, 2016

and then there’s you

and you and you and you

lurking in every corner of my mind

slipping in and out of my dreams

miles away — yet somehow

always by my side

there you are


why can’t i shake

the thought of  you?

am i, is this, could it be


it couldn’t be

but perhaps

am i blessed

with the thought of you?

and you and you and you

every waking hour

and sleep-filled night

it’s you

and you and you and you

I just can’t get enough of you

if I could have no one and nothing else

I would choose you

and you and you and you


October 11th, 2015

There is no substitute for you

no matter where I go or what I do

This house can’t feel like home

and I’m always alone


I didn’t mean for you to be

the hook upon I’d hang my dreams

Resting so precariously

How very foolish of me


You were the light in the dark

the only one to pierce my heart

Finally I felt alive

Imaginging you by my side


Didn’t see you walk right up

Can I even justify my love?

Had this broken heart for so long

How many months since you’ve been gone?


I didn’t mean for you to be

the hook upon I’d hang my dreams

Resting so precariously

How very foolish of me


And I have so much to say

about how you made me feel this way

Straight to the heart of the things

but you’re not listening


Did I think we’re meant to be?

Caught up in love so easily?

Giving you every part of me

How very foolish, I see


September 21st, 2015

We never got the chance

to make memories

you and me

falling blindingly

But it’s all a haze

and I can’t recall

any single day

and while I’m sure you remember me

I still finding myself wishing

we’d made  just one more memory


June 29th, 2015

I thought I would feel better than this already

by blocking you from my sight, my life

but it seems like I just cannot block you from my heart

and that is where I hold all my sadness


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