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Katie Silver

Katie Silver

These Trees

There is not much space,
In this city,
To be free.

Until I walk amongst you,
These trees.

Whisper in silence,
Your red leaves,
Blood in autumn,
And dark.

Ferocious is the light
That comes,
From the yellow leaves which burn.

Nothing less than stitched by hand,
With swathes of fire,
And dust.

Yet so quaint are some that glimmer,
And spark,
Tiny candles in the breeze.

Hope, that is,
Amongst the grumble of the city,
These trees.

I will always be grateful to you,

The stems from which you shine.

Upon ours,
And yours,
The glow,
Lighting up rainy days of mine.

Reminding us,
Nothing matters,
If only you,
Continue to grow.

Although sometimes,
You fall,
And when you do,
The warmth you bring,
Does too.

For then it is winter,
And so,
No autumn heat can help us through.

But the brightness of your berries once more,
Means we can rejoice again.

And because of this,
These trees,
I thank you.

Katie Silver has always had a strong affinity with nature and the outdoors.

She studied geography at Newcastle University where she wrote a dissertation about organic farming in South Africa, whilst living on two farms in the Western Cape. 
The impact of place attachment and environmental identity upon sustainable behaviours had rarely been touched upon in previous research, but is an area she has always had a great interest in.

This is Katie's first poem. It was inspired by Hampstead Heath, where she grew up - and conclusively refers to as her favourite place in London.

She hopes that it will demonstrate her own attachment to it.

IG: @katiesilvr

Jill Pelto

Jill Pelto

Michael Zuhorski

Michael Zuhorski