by Noriko Ibaraki or Ibaragi 

Trees like traveling

A tree 

is always 

thinking of

the day when it will set out on its journey,

as it stands, rooted in one place,



It flowers,

invites insects and the wind,

hurries to bear fruit,


“somewhere far away,”

“somewhere far away.”


At last the birds peck at its fruit

and the wild beasts come to nibble.

A tree needs no backpack, no suitcase, no passport to travel.

It hitches a ride on a bird’s belly,

stealthily making its own airship,

and, when the day comes, it sets out abruptly, 

into the sky.


The seed falls.

“Here’s a good place. I can see a lake.

I’ll stay here for a while.”

It becomes a seedling and puts down roots

and, like the tree from which it came,

it too begins to dream of the day it will
set out on its own journey.


When I touch the trunk of a tree

I understand how it aches:

how it loves to travel

how it yearns to wander

how it writhes, longing to be a nomad.







Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2015-07-09 at 08:43

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this very much. It is something we do not normally consider when we see stationary trees.