Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry

Day 271

T, a friend of mine who used to be Bumfrey’s producer on BBC Radio Norfolk, posted a lovely picture of a moss-covered tree on her Instagram feed yesterday, and called it the tree of dreams, and some words sprung into my head.


The tree of dreams
Vanishes in the green.
It’s not a disappearance,
More a disguise to keep
From imposing on you,
Just a gentle reminder
Of why it’s here, of why
Dreams are as real as
The moss that covers
Branches and trunk,
Roots and shoots,
As natural as waking
And sleeping, and breathing.
At the centre of existence,
At the periphery of sight,
Touch, and emotion.
Feel your arms around it
When the tree hugs you
Back, and its bark caresses
Your skin and your sleep,
Your breath and your being.
The tree of dreams, a
Solid reality in the life
You have yet to give.

R 27/09/2022

I have recently engaged in some self-censorship, because I had to have a screening colonoscopy this morning, and I didn’t really want to worry the children. But all well. The NHS staff were, as always, amazing and kind. I have been battling the last three weeks to implement Rule 3 of The 8 Laws of Therapy (I haven’t yet added the 9th I was going to add months ago) – There is no need to catastrophise – with partial success. But partial success is better than none. Those few friends I shared this (and my fears) with – and you know who you are, have been very very supportive and helped me not catastrophise. Like I said yesterday, people are a blessing.




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