Tree Line

/ Daniel Swearingen


It’s a quarter till seven, that’s right, and I’m a driving towards first light. Never thought I’d say this now, not sure if I’m ready, but hear it now, my life is in the spirit of wind, along the tree line I’m driving in. I’m not really sure if G_D’s a he or a she, not sure it really matters for their inquiring in me.

I stare upon a tree line on a cold February day, the frozen mist drives north from Boulder, those limbs are darkened gray. The oaks they stand defiant, a division from street to land, but just the same they cannot stop the mist that penetrates their stand. Upon me rides the business of the coming day, to work, and all its details life’s troubles, comes what may. The swarming of the winter this day it seems always, the judgment down from heaven on this road, a right of way. The tree line goes on southward, dividing in its own way. What promise do I wonder does look the other way?

A whisper of a siren, the wetness of a tongue, a glance beyond toward westward, in fog where the trees look on. The fields roll out in body, their magic under sun. A sudden change in climate from pavement to a mystery sum. The question then on this early morn, when fate weighs heavily, to drive on to the fog that is known, or cross the tree line near. What then the voice does echo, does make thy soul draw near, the plainness of the day ahead, with cloudiness and drear.

Over land there draws the energy of the sun, while on this side of the tree line, there seems to be none. Is it something magic in a prayer that I must say, to cross over markers to where your angels play. What is it now that your good, it asks of me, on this side of Jordan here beneath these winter trees. There through the vale now, I see another sun, the better part of harvest, beneath what you have won. A radiance of better grace, a hope that’s better done. I’m driving down this side of fortune, and my spirits come undone. Pick me up, my better, pick me up, I’ve got to run.

This car it has no steering on this cold February day, the daemons hold it’s steering and it heads down straight away. Down there close to honesty, that makes a better man, but he’s worn and he’s dyeing, and he needs your promised land, there you are through the tree line, there you are.

For a moment, just because I can, I turn the wheel and enter a wind filled promised land, and I fly into a better sun I have always known, as my best friend!

It’s a quarter till seven, that’s right, and I’m a driving towards first light. Never thought I’d say this now, not sure if I’m ready but hear it now, my life is in the spirit of wind, along the tree line I’m driving in. I’m not really sure if G_D’s a he or a she, not sure it really matters for their inquiring in me. – 02.11.2018 – דָּנִיֵּאל

44 thoughts on “Tree Line”

    • Thank you Resa, I was driving to work the other day early morning and there was light snow, sleet falling and this road I take a shortcut of sorts, has a treeline, and I could have swore on the other side of that line, the sun was shining. 😉

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      • It may have been shining! I have seen that before. It rained buckets all the way downtown, the bus turned a corner and it was a sunny day. It was still raining behind us. 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      • Daniel, I always have the best admiration for those who visit the other world, if that involves an actual cross over spiritually or physically. You could say perhaps that I am envious, still, I will live vicariously through your writings and enjoy it all the same.

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  11. I like Ryan found this to be a very enjoyable read. Very interesting too, I am always curious what comes to your mind as your writing. I always gain so much. Thank you. Bill

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    • Truthfully my friend not much, I free write alot, listening to what ever tune strikes me at the time, I am never sure that anything that I put out is worthwhile, and am so appreciative when kind persons such as yourself grace me with your compliments and patronage. Thank you Bill.

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      • I am struck by your own humility here my young friend. Perhaps not understanding your own greatness is your greatness. 🙂

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  13. I love the following paragraph, it holds so much in it, “This car it has no steering on this cold February day, the daemons hold it’s steering and it heads down straight away. Down there close to honesty, that makes a better man, but he’s worn and he’s dyeing, and he needs your promised land, there you are through the tree line, there you are.”. ❤

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  17. I happened upon your blog while searching for the term trees in short stories, (I know a strange topic). Anyhow, I was grateful my search brought me here. I found “Tree Line” to be amazing with your mix of poetry and inner dialogue. I will be returning often to read as you have much to offer. 🙂

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