With some trees, the knotholes
are among the last things to go.
You can find them staring up
from the ground, eye sockets
that never belonged to a skull.
It makes sense that trees would grow
their hardest wood around the weakest
points in their architecture.
This is called the branch collar,
& it is woven with wood
first from the branch
as it overlaps onto the trunk
& then from the trunk
as it overlaps onto the branch.
Behind the collar, in the parent
trunk or limb, the branch core forms:
a cone of decay-resistant wood
shaped like a spear with the flared
base facing outward, keeping
the agents of rot at bay
long after the rest of the branch
has fallen off. This is the knot.
Arborists talk of intergrown
& encased knots, loose & sound
& pin knots, red & black knots.
We who know them only from lumber
might imagine hard pills the tree
had been unable to dissolve.
We would not be wrong.
Each time a tree says yes to the sun
a no begins to form, firm & sharp
& pointed inward.
Based on a photo post from March 2011.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Ab Ovo
- The Origin of the Exclamation Mark
- Shark’s Tooth
- Book Match
- Toenail Paring
- That Button
- Sugar Pill
- Peach Pit
- Bullet Casing
- Indicator Light
- Salt Crystals
- Asterisk (videopoem)
- Fish Hook
- Oak Apple Gall
- A Thumbnail Taxonomy of Rivets
- Baby Carrots
- Computer Chip
7 Replies to “Knots”
I love the turn of last four lines.
Thanks, I’m glad that worked for you. To me, it feels like the rhythm is slightly off — like the last phrase needs one more beat — but as far as what it has to say, I don’t think it needs another word.
A poem aimed right at my heartwood!
Glad you liked that.
‘Tis reassuring to know that you’re still there and still flourishing and still caring and
I don’t do much with my Dell these days and nights (I prefer the telephone–voices tell
more, whatever they may be saying).
I like your photo. . .ah, memories.
Jack died April 24th this year. I’m still plugging along, getting by with lots of fun with my friends. Also with 3-digit temperatures–I Love Them–and a nearby pool and icewater and books and sleep and fraps and conversations and women-circles. . .
Hugs, love, laughter, & Blessed be, jo
I love this and re-love the original post with its fab photos….truly a gem.