Before you can learn the trees, you have to
The language of the trees.
That's done indoors,
Out of a book, which now you think of
Is one of the transformations of a tree.
The words themselves are a delight to learn,
You might be in a foreign land of
Like samara, capsule, drupe, legume and pome,
Where bark is papery, plated, warty or smooth.
But best of all are the words that shape the leaves –Orbicular, cordate, cleft and reniform –And their venation – palmate and parallel –And tips – acute, truncate, auriculate.
Sufficiently provided, you may
Go forth to the forests and the shady
To see how the chaos of
Answers to catalogue and category.
Confusedly.
The leaves of a single
May differ among themselves more than they
From other species, so you have to find,
All blandly says the book, "an average leaf."Example, the catalpa in the
Sprays out its leaves in whorls of
Around the stem; the one in front of
But rarely does, or somewhat, or almost;
Maybe it's not catalpa?
Dreadful doubt.
It may be weeks before you see an
Fanlike in form, a spruce that pyramids,
A sweetgum spiring up in steeple shape.
Still, pedetemtim as Lucretious says,
Little by little, you do start to learn;
And learn as well, maybe, what language
And how it does it, cutting across the
Not always at the joints, competing
Experience while cooperating
Experience, and keeping an
Intransigence, uncanny, of its own.
Think finally about the secret
Pretending obedience to Nature,
Invidiously distinguishing everywhere,
Dividing up the world to conquer it.
And think also how funny knowledge is:
You may succeed in learning many
And calling off their names as you go by,
But their comprehensive silence stays the same.
Howard Nemerov was born on February 29th, 1920 in New York.
He died of cancer at his home in University City,
Missouri on July 5th 1991.
