each morning

A poem by Hilary Burgess

Our dear friend Hilary lives a mile from Josh’s tree and can see it from her bedroom window. Every morning when she opens her curtains she tells me she thinks of Josh as she sees his tree on the hill across the valley.

Her poem was written on the first anniversary of his death.  (Jane)



Josh’s tree

Each morning, drawing open the curtains on a new day –
looking over the valley to the hilltop above Westley Farm:

Three trees stand guardian in the hedgerow
bearing witness to a fourth
that is growing to join them.

Josh’s tree:
planted for a life cut short
but cherished in our hearts –
a son, a brother,friend, son of friend.

A year has passed –
slowly, painfully
But his tree is slowly growing
A testament to his life and those who loved him

Each day the light changes on the hilltop:
now the dawn: a tongue of fire
illuminates the tree from the east;

Now a sea of light mist fills the valley,
the trees sailing wonderously above;

Now driving rain envelopes the valley
Under grey clouds;

Now the evening sun warms the hillside
And Josh’s tree grows copper;

And then at night, drawing the curtains to,
the moon casts lengthy arboreal shadows
and the stars watch over
Josh’s tree

Hilary Burgess
16 Jan 2012