The Tree As Artist Model Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Tree as Artist Model
I think my artist will paint me
Like an Egyptian funerary statue,
Standing as still as Hatshepsut

But I like to think of myself as one of Matisse's dancers
My branches swaying, my pose performative

Does my artist notice the twists and gestures of my twigs?
Will he capture the complex play of light on my leaves?

I'm dressed in my Autumn colours:
Cadmium yellow, raw sienna, burnt umber, cadmium red…
Cobalt violet, and sky

I've been a muse for many
Piet Mondrian, Van Gogh & Constable
One of Pan's people
I'm the tree of life and knowledge

Here are some of my fellow models
Captured on film and camera:

My brothers in Wistman's Wood
In the West Dart valley, mysterious, mediaeval

The Bowthorpe Oak in the heart of Lincolnshire
The Horror Tree of Suffolk
Ankerwycke yew at Runnymede

Old Knobbly, in Mistley, Essex
The Birnam Oak, in Perth

In the Peace Garden of Kagyu Samye Ling
I am kin to a Celtic Clootie tree, festooned with wishes

Maybe my artist will set aside his brushes,
Let me sooth him, work my forest magic

I am not a still life model
I am a tree, all giving, all protecting
Filling an empty space with my rustling leaves