Last year is dead, begin afresh ...

Over in Sighthill this afternoon, and really liked the light coming through these community woodlands ...

... all put me in mind of the famous Philip Larkin poem about trees:


The Trees

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

---

Philip Larkin (1922 – 1985) 

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