For Love of Trees by Marijke Greenway

On a walk through the bush, my heart skips a beat and my pulse beats faster as my eyes feast upon a ballad of a tree so rhythmical and sensitive in the dance of its boughs that I can feel my arms mimicking its movements until I feel a union of hearts.

Leaves a-quiver and red sap throbbing, overflowing, and weeping in shiny magenta jewel tears, long streaks down pink bark. Noble branches grow up, then reverse direction erratically, loop de loop, and carry on searching, creating love hearts in the negatives of space. Unlikely balancing acts, pure fun-filled movements defying gravity. Heavy branches drop, would heal and pucker over and then form smooth knobs whose raison d'être seems to be to shine and catch the light delightfully. I look down and see their roots gripping the rocks, spilling over them in rolls, like fluid waves of setting custard.

Grey old bark, new red bark, more red than expected, more red than reality, cracks showing, lifeblood flowing, strips dropping, my heart-stopping.

But then I crane my neck and long to own the memory of it all and try to capture this tree so tall - with a brush and some paint and a hope in my heart.