Sweet Impression by Denis Collette
Everyday life is a blur
sounds bombard us with a cacophony
images flash and fade without imprinting
smells mix into ambiguous scents
and we become machines mindlessly performing-
our value measured by production not presence.
Once- just once- everything was paused
and the only sound I heard was a ripple in a river
and the only thing I saw was a leaf against trees
I smelled only the earth beneath my feet
and my wires stopped flashing and I felt sentient.
I felt a hand or two on my shoulder and knew I was there.
I produced nothing at that moment for anyone.
Oh to be a tree in this world
To never move, nor have to hurry or rush
To simply grow, persevere and be
To hear nothing but the ripple of the nearby water
To smell only the sweet earth that holds me still and steadies me like a hand or two
and To see only the leaves on my body…flecks of green and yellow and sometimes brown
Though- what then memory would I have?
Trees do not remember, do not recall and do not reminisce
They do not hear, nor see, nor smell nor feel
They just are… until they aren’t anymore.
So I return to be a machine, to produce and yet
now am haunted by a moment I can’t forget nor replicate.
The Albany, NY region has some beautiful natural landscapes: mountains, farms, rivers and trees. It can be a real feast for the eyes. The messages on the Albany Missed Connections never reflected the inspiration that could be found in such a setting, but this piece from a few years ago seemed worthy of saving (although some might argue with our writer about the memory and physical responses exhibited by trees… but that’s a conversation for another time and place).
