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I searched in vain for the name of this tree, which I believe to be from New Zealand, but I am not sure. Anyway, when I saw a few of them in the undergrowth near the Marahau River, I could easily imagine how they could become characters of mysterious and magical legends in extraordinary stories as it would be easy to confuse them with the silhouette of a human being.
The Botanical Garden has gone back to the ducks, ever since the flooding of the past few days, when 300mm of rain (in four days, instead of the usual 80mm) caused landslides, road closures, extensive damage to an important number of houses, as well as the evacuation of many residents. The only ones not complaining about the situation seem to be the ducks, who are taking full advantage of their garden.
It deployed, as it should, equally. In the harmony of the branches, the wind made its dance. Nourished by sun, it created shade. It could neither read nor write, but would make books.
in the morning light
its roots hold up the fragments of the earth:
majesty of the tree
*category inspired by Emily Dickinson "the simple news that Nature told"
My poetic journey through words and image/ Mon journal poetique a travers les mots et les images