Julie Belle's Tree

Julie Belle’s Tree

It was a tree
much like any other
in this mysterious forest,
but it wasn’t
just like any other.

The bark was gnarly
and spoke of age,
of wisdom
and all knowing.
I stopped to rest,
sitting on the ground
and leaning against the trunk.
All was quiet,
all too quiet, I thought.

I closed my eyes,
but felt watched.
Now, how could that be,
when I was alone
with not a soul in sight?

Then, a flash of rainbow light
seen through closed eyelids.
I sat up, looked around,
and saw nothing, just a forest
of green with ferns and lichen.
My mind is playing tricks, I thought,
and closed my eyes again.

Now, I was hearing music,
light, happy sounds, and singing,
small voices all in sync,
like a choir sweet and pure,
but from whence it came
I could not tell,
and wondered if I’d lost my mind.

I stood and turned toward the tree
and in its gnarly bark, I saw
what looked to be a tiny door.
A door painted green
with a shiny knocker
and a name plate that read
Julie Belle.
I leaned close and peeked
through the mail slot
and there within,
a choir of little people sang,
led by a tiny beauty
with waist length golden hair
and wings of silk.
Julie Belle no doubt.

I sat down again,
my back against the gnarly bark,
and listened with much content
to such a concert,
the like of which
I’d not heard before.

I fell asleep
and when I woke,
all was quiet.
There was no music and
I could not find the door,
the green door with a shiny knocker
and the name plate that read Julie Belle.
I knew though in my mind
that I was close to magic—
close to that faraway tree,
and that I must look some more
for there’s so much more to see.

Vi Jones
©January 14, 2006