Winter arrived in magical style for us, when seven of our poets were commissioned to write and record poems in the voices of certain trees in Stewart Park, Middlesbrough. Those trees were then brought to life with huge illuminated eyeballs, and our voices were broadcast to the hundreds of people walking past – all part of the amazing Nightfall festival of light by Stellar Projects, which happens every year.

BUT – only extracts were played; would you like to hear and read the full poems? Of course you would!

Welcome Tree – Peggy Carl

This poem can be applied to any tree you like!

Oh hello, I didn’t see you there, 

I was looking at the stars.

Jupiter is bright in the sky, 

But I can’t see mars.

But who am I standing here so tall? 

A steadfast tree, where seasons gently fall.

In and out, rise and fall, ebb and flow,  

The seasons come, the seasons go.

Summer’s past and winter’s not quite here, 

Robins and starlight tells me it’s getting near.

Now though, the Autumn’s breath paints leaves in fiery tones, 

I welcome you from my roots to my woody bones.

Feel my energy, wise, youthful yet old, 

Come closer if you want,  come in, take a hold.

My power is your power so grab hold and grow stronger, 

Visit a minute or 2 or stay a little longer.

Take your time, linger, take time to wonder, 

Don’t waste your time tho, it’s not yours to squander.

My branches are here, see me tower overhead in protection, 

My leaves spread out, matching the above constellations. 

A blanket of stars, see them litter the darkening sky,

Rolled out high above, celestial beauty you cannot deny.

Look to the sky in the East, as the darker night chills set in, 

See Gemini, side by side, a celestial twin.

The Twins, a symbol of duality, 

In the vastness of space, a heavenly reality.

Quick witted twins are curious and smart, 

Their playfulness is sure to win your heart.

If you’re lucky enough and keep a careful eye, 

Watch meteor fall like my golden leaves up high.

With each shooting star, a wish you can make,  

For the wonders of the cosmos, and humanity’s sake.

Orion’s belt, a warrior’s guiding light, 

And Seven Sisters, a cluster shining bright.

Let them weave their tales in a cosmic dance, 

While I, rooted below, watch with a silent glance.

Amidst the crisp air and late autumn’s chill, 

I whisper secrets, and time stands still.

While above, the constellations softly gleam, 

In their celestial dance, a timeless dream.

Underneath my branches, find your peace, 

As constellations in the night sky release.

Let’s share a moment, under moon’s soft glow, 

In this tranquil space, let your worries go.

Welcome to my world, a place to be, 

Where nature’s wonders blend with mystery.

Beneath the stars, we find our connection true, 

In late autumn’s embrace, I welcome you.

---

Nootka Spruce – Julie Easley

Cupressus Nootkatensis is historic tree number 3 on the Stewart Park arboretum walk. See the walk map here, or pick up a paper version from the James Cook Museum in the park. The specific epithet “Nootkatensis” is derived from its discovery by Europeans on the lands of a First Nation of Canada, those lands of the Nuu-chah-nulth people of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, who were formerly referred to as the Nootka. It is an evergreen tree growing up to 40 meters (131 feet) tall, commonly with pendulous branches, if you stand under it and look up you should be able to see the sky.

The explorers called me Nootka 

A name not mine but yours

You named me for the sound of the ocean

As her waves caress the shores

But I ask you say it ‘new chal nuth’

Meaning, ‘all along the mountains and sea’

For the first nation lands of Canada

Used to belong to me

I stand here tall in Teesside

Beneath the sky on this nightfall

Gaze above us to the same stars

In a world connected and small

The Greater Dog is shining down

She lights you and my family afar

With the Little Beehive Cluster

And Sirius the brightest star

My leaves they hang as if weeping

Stay green for evermore

They have long forgiven Raven

For the trouble that he caused

Raven tricked my people

Because he sang the song of Owl

Fooled the women drying salmon

With behaviour frivolous and foul

They ran high up in the mountains

Till breathless they became a tree

The mothers of the first nations

Merged with nature to make me

Their bodies rooted to the soil 

Made my trunk as smooth as silk

Their flowing hair cascaded

Wrapped around me as my bark

So call me ‘new chal nuth’

In honour of those women

For the first nation lands of Canada

Live in my heart forever

---

Giant Redwood – Ann Cuthbert

Sequoiadendron is tree number 5 on the Trees of Stewart Park walk. Situated between the temple and rose garden is the park’s largest redwood, it is so large that it takes a minimum of 3 adults to give it a hug! The oldest known giant sequoia is 3,200-3,266 years old, the tallest recorded in the UK is at Benmore in South West Scotland, reaching 56.4m (185ft) in 2014 at the age of 150 years.

Granny– that’s what the other trees call me

(You can too.)

Giant granny redwood withstanding years and years.

My straggly branches reach out rheumatic fingers –

Will you hold my roughened hand?

I’m not bent backed though – my head’s held high –

I’m the tallest round here, towering skywards

above my skinny sisters leaning in.

Look up – you can see my greeny browny

crown of ferny hair gone all awry.

My waist’s spread too but you could hug me.

Wait – how many of you would it take

to get your arms right round my generous girth?

Join hands with friends and family –

I think it will take four or five of you.

They say it makes you warm and fuzzy when you hug a tree.

Can you feel my energy? Hear me breathe?

Don’t press too close though – you’ll end up

with your faces crinkled from my ridgy wrinkles.

Stop and listen. I’m a giant but the little things don’t fear me.

That’s a wren chittering. And see the tiny goldcrest hovering?

In daytime, I love to hear your voices as you run around

the rose garden playing hide and seek, see your smiles.

At night I eavesdrop on stars telling their stories.

People have tried to name us over the years.

We’ve forgotten who or why.

Wawona, Washingtonia, Wellingtonia.

Now our posh name is sequoia – some say

Sequoya, from the Cherokee nation, saved his people

by working out a way of writing down their words

so they could keep in touch across the miles.

Myth or truth, I think it’s fitting.

What do we call ourselves? Big Trees.

Now come on, what about another hug? I need it –

Stewart’s Park’s a bit colder than my place of birth.

But I enjoy it here. Just as well –

I can’t really leave like, can I?

My roots are tangled in this Teesside earth.

We’re all connected. 

---

Cedar of Lebanon – Kirsten Luckins

Cedrus libani is tree number 4 on the Trees of Stewart Park walk, one of the more distinctive trees in the parks arboretum with its distinctive shape and cones. It looks almost prehistoric with its spreading horizontal branches. It has become rare in the wild now, so it is worth growing in a collection for conservation reasons, and for its historical and biblical associations. It is also the national emblem of Lebanon.

Oh, can you see me? I am Cedar!

Cedar of Lebanon, named for my seed-givers’ ancient home

In a far land of peaks and pilgrimage.

My root-line stretches back through time and myth, 

To the sacred mountain forests, 

Up, up, up where your human world reaches

Its thin and sparkling edge.

For longer than legend, my cone-kin lived in the High Places,

their heads veiled in snowfall,

Wimpled white and silent as nuns.

Many of your kind tried to reach us, fell us, slice and use us.

In curiosity and desire, they climbed

Winding up steep-sided valleys where monasteries cling 

and chime calls to prayer, sweet over the clanging of goat bells.

From Ur came Gligamesh the Great, remember him?

No, your lives are so short, like snow in sun!

But he was the very first hero you wrote.

He brought his mighty axe to the deities who guarded us, and he smote.

From our first ruination he built great temples and halls of rule

in the lush valleys below, where all your stories were conceived.

Then from Phoenicia came the purple people, 

Fingers and robes dark with dye, minds fierce to travel and trade,

Their navigators’ eyes shrewd upon the patterned night sky.

It was my mother-fathers’ bodies that cradled them

When the wine-dark seas rocked, and the constellations whirled above.

With Polaris bright above them and our scented wood below,

They re-drew the boundaries of your world.

Your kind acts in metal – the blade and the coin are close cousins.

We have been your harvest, your homes, and your collateral.

You took our strength and pride, and made of it

Deft metaphors and pretty words in your holy books.

So holy that from Rome, devout men came to our mountains

And walled up their lives in cliffside cells,

Hermits in the rocks, snug as solitary bees

Happy to be but a narrow, gasping pass away from

The Cedars of the Lord, their fingertips so close to the hem of God’s robe,

fringed with the green-black needles of my kind.

Now you find me here, down from the far peaks and in this park!

The lights of this world stain the timeless dark, and the air here

Is thick as a sea, but Still the heartsong of the old groves sings to me

of the diamond-fresh chill of high altitude!

Of the creaking melody of our arms, spread wide but unable to clasp hands,

Sparse survivors, lonely on our last clifftops…

For yes, one by one our Old Ones have died

And the once-sacred forest that holds up the skies

Is almost dwindled to deadwood.

Though for centuries now the axes have been still,

Yet we have withered.

Will you preserve us now? 

Will you raise a shield?

Will you take our cones into your hands?

Will you plant a future for us all?

For we are the Cedars of Lebanon, the Cedars of God.

The old priests lit wax at our feet and fed us wine and blood.

Our branches were the roofbeams of eternity

And no being looked down upon us but the stars.

---

Softy Tree – Carmen Marcus

Sequoias are species of coniferous trees in the genus Sequoia family Taxodiaceae. Sequoias can reach enormous height and girth and can attain an age exceeding 1,000 years. These giant, venerable trees are commonly regarded as botanical wonders. The term ‘softy’ presumably comes from the fact that their wood has a soft, fibrous nature (too soft to be used as a construction material). This ‘softy tree’ is number 25 on the Trees of Stewart Park walk.

You.

You’re on my roots, 

Don’t look up, look down.

Don’t you know

however high up we go

we go as much down below.

What sort of tree are you?

Hopping on two bendy trunks? 

Where’s your branches?

Where’s your roots?

You one of them hoomans? 

One of them tick-tock don’t-stop 

everything all at once hominids

born today die tomorrow bi-peds

making trouble with your thumbs?

You forget tree speak – 

soon as you get teeth.

You cut us down

skin us

chip us

dip us in

Devil Spit

to make 

match sticks.

Tsssss!

From Us!  – 

Mammoth Tree

Mother Sugar

Soft Sequoia.

You know nothing about fire.

Sparks is our syllabary!

Is that what you want?

Want to learn your A B Tree?

Go on then – 

Stick your root tip toes

deep down into the dirt

stretch your arm shoots out

twig your fingers

till it hurts!

And breathe my breath

from me to you

Breathe in for three

two 

one

down to your belly roots.

Out slow two, three

through them nose knolls

• give my tree breath back 

to me. 

Tick tick tssss!

a kindle from a match

a kissing cousin

up in smoke

sparks dancing 

up our trunks

to make a halo 

of our crowns

it’s fire that splits

the babba cones

and wakes the seeds

we are born in fire 

– dragon trees!

Hooman – 

you is as much tree as me

For as I breathe

So do you breathe.

For all you dream in 

winter greys

your tongue 

like mine 

is Red.

---

Evergreen – Eithne Longstaff

This poem was not assigned to any particular tree, so lucky you if you’re nowhere near Stewart Park, you can listen to this poem under any evergreen of your acquaintance! (Just watch out for the bears…)

Have you seen any bears around here?
My best friend is called Ursula–
she’s a bear made of stars
and she shines in the nebula,
sending light this way every night.

I met Ursula when I was small,
feeling sad with scraggly leaves,
not as lush as the other trees.
I looked up one night and there
she was, paw waving, saying,

Evergreen, let me tell you these three things…

Ursula told me that when I breathe
I make air so you can breathe,
and you do the same for me.
In and out, you and me, together
in this world, humankind and tree.

She took me right back to my roots,
told me there are more trees on this
earth than stars in the milky way.
You and I are part of a throng,
we know that we belong.

She taught me to be still, to notice
and so beneath my boughs, I’ve seen
first kisses, first steps, last goodbyes.
People seek me out in the white
of winter, I am their Evergreen.

I’ve shared Ursula’s lessons;

they’ve helped me from root to leaf,

let’s all breathe, belong, take notice

and grow towards inner peace.

---

Farewell Tree – Lizzie Lovejoy

This final tree is watching over you all as you head home, from whichever park or woodland you’re visiting, real or imagined…

Before you leave, just one more thing!
I have a message, are you listening?

Who am I?

I could describe

myself in bark and leaves,

but I believe

that we are more than our parts

we are what is in our hearts,

and at my core

I am more

than any list can contain.

Let me explain:
I am ancient, rings in hundreds on my insides

but the exact number resides

in secret all of my life.

I am home to thousands at a time

to all that fly and climb,

to beatles, hedgehogs, foxes and I’m

a Mother; I feed the ground below.

I drop my seeds and leaves so life continues to grow

so please don’t litter as you head on your way,

my leaves degrade, but waste often stays

and I am so ancient, I’ve watched it all before.

Lives of many generations and I hope to watch more,

because I am a listener, I will take in your words.
So if you have a story, I promise you’ll be heard,
come back and visit with adventures on your tongue,

I’ll revel in your tales, loving every one.

Go home now, it’s getting dark,

go create more stories to bring back to the park

in the future, but it’s time to say goodnight

now that daylight

has thoroughly faded out.

It’s time for owls to be about

and hoot their tales to me

and foxes to share their history,

it’s their turn to talk by my side.

Who am I?

If I must describe

I’m the tree with a lullaby

who is here to give a hushed goodbye

and wish you a wonderful sleep

filled with yet more stories to keep.

---

We hope you’ve enjoyed these voices of the trees! Maybe you are inspired to write a poem of your own in the voice of a favourite tree or plant?

Big thanks go to our sound engineer Grace Stubbings, who made such wonderfully atmospheric recordings of us, all whilst sat in a car in Stewart Park carpark!