avatarErika Burkhalter

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into the leafy canopy whispering overhead.</p><p id="706f">The web of life doesn’t always show itself unless you look, or learn to listen to how a tree breathes, sighing carbon dioxide into the night, and, daily, exhaling oxygen and inhaling light.</p><p id="974c">Oh, Grandfather Tree, bless me with your wisdom. Your stolid strength and the beat of your sap in tune with nature inspires me so, and gives me hope for the future.</p><figure id="3f40"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*OvaRrtO5qex70Ba7ULtGmg.jpeg"><figcaption>The wise one. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter</figcaption></figure><p id="63c1">This poem was birthed from a photography session in Calistoga, California. While hiking in the hills, I found myself surrounded by a forest of manzanita and stumbled across this old tree. I touched its skin, and it invited me in.</p><p id="a76d">To truly understand a poem, I feel that it needs to be heard. To hear the rhythm, the cadence, the emphasis, please listen to my recording of “Symbiosis.”</p> <figure id="9134"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fw.soundcloud.com%2Fplayer%2F%3Furl%3Dhttps%253A%252F%252Fapi.soundcloud.com%252Ftracks%252F747466210%26show_artwork%3Dtrue&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Ferika-burkhalter%2Fsymbiosis&amp;image=https%3A%2F%2Fi1.sndcdn.com%2Fartworks-000672126592-2i2y8m-t500x500.jpg&amp;key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&amp;type=text%2Fhtml&amp;schema=soundcloud" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="166" width="800"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="b846">Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, tree-hugger, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement

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for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).</p><p id="d420">If you enjoyed this piece, you might also like:</p><div id="4a21" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/visions-51cddedd8484"> <div> <div> <h2>Visions</h2> <div><h3>Insights from the 18th century Bengali poet, Rāmprasād</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*KQCwHi11NnfsGoB2XRLqmg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="571a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/macrocosm-in-the-microcosm-43715a408a3c"> <div> <div> <h2>Macrocosm in the Microcosm</h2> <div><h3>Experimenting with an external macro lens on the new iPhone 11 Pro</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*fcyrsWm_7g2CLAKaZtRtKA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="953a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/riding-the-raindrops-60e8b579aa39"> <div> <div> <h2>Riding the Raindrops</h2> <div><h3>A universe descends</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*InLtxXkcAm1qE5JAADK8AQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="8589">Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter.</p></article></body>

The Grandfather Tree. All photos ©Erika Burkhalter

Symbiosis

A photo poem

Curls. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter.

Placing my hands on the smooth red skin of the manzanita tree, I sense its energy pulsing into me.

The sight of its russet branches, fingers of the earth, reaching for the blue, blue sky, brings sharp tears to the backs of my eyes.

I sink to my knees, marveling at the curls of bark, tendrils of last year’s growth, peeling free from the silky skin.

I can almost tell where the roots begin to talk to the dirt and to the threads of fungi skirting the earth around its base, and weaving through the ground, like synapses, connecting it to its kin.

All around, slender stalks of fiery form dance and twist their way up from the ground, surrounding the old one.

Someday, they, too, will grow ancient and wise. But, for now, they simply take delight in the warmth of the sun and the tickle of the breeze in their leaves.

Dragon scales. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter.

Hushed green clusters of moss, like dragon scales, cling tenaciously to the Grandfather Tree, living symbiotically with its limbs, fixing nitrogen from the air and adding an artistic flair.

Here and there, the tree shows its age. Iron gray splits, rendered from the force of gravity, twist along its spine, twining up and up, swirling around its girth and into the leafy canopy whispering overhead.

The web of life doesn’t always show itself unless you look, or learn to listen to how a tree breathes, sighing carbon dioxide into the night, and, daily, exhaling oxygen and inhaling light.

Oh, Grandfather Tree, bless me with your wisdom. Your stolid strength and the beat of your sap in tune with nature inspires me so, and gives me hope for the future.

The wise one. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter

This poem was birthed from a photography session in Calistoga, California. While hiking in the hills, I found myself surrounded by a forest of manzanita and stumbled across this old tree. I touched its skin, and it invited me in.

To truly understand a poem, I feel that it needs to be heard. To hear the rhythm, the cadence, the emphasis, please listen to my recording of “Symbiosis.”

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, tree-hugger, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

If you enjoyed this piece, you might also like:

Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter.

Poetry
Spirituality
Climate Change
Photography
Travel
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