A politically urgent yet timeless collection that studies the devastating failings of humanity and the redemptive possibilities of love.
In Wind, Trees, John Freeman presents a meditation on power and loss, change and adaptation. What can the trees teach us about inhabiting space together? What might we gain if we admit we do not control the wind, and cannot possibly carry all we’ve been handed? Offering a stark moral critique of pandemic self-preservation—as “justifications grew / with greed like vines / up the side of a tree / taking everything”—Wind, Trees joins the ranks of politically urgent yet timeless collections like The Lice by W.S. Merwin. Through narrative lyric and metaphysical pulse, meandering thought and punctuating quiet, Freeman studies the devastating failings of humanity and the redemptive possibilities of love.
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John Freeman - English poet and essayist, 1880-1929
I’m always biased toward trees, but honestly, the most effective sections were the longer form narratives. The treatment of wind should have been explored more and I don’t think the enjambment was always effective or explored the sonic potential of his works, but the poem at the end is a killer good one and “Windbreak” and “The Red Umbrella.”
When I started this collection at the beginning of April I thought it would be an assortment of naturalist poems that would keep me company as I welcomed the spring. While it's kept me company in some capacity, the content was a bit different. Rather than exploring the natural world, Freeman instead examines its relationship to lives spent in it. I don't know if that's what made it hard for me at the start, but when I went back and revisited some of the poems tonight, keeping that in mind made a noticeable difference. I enjoyed it :)
Favourite poems were: Yard Dogs The Green Tram Icicles Without Still Sailing and Signs
Read a few poems each day. Been so long since I've done that, so here's a new goal for this winter: read poems each day. For the rest of my life. For today, at least, it's good to feel happier by reading poetry on paper.
Favorite poem from this collection:
Burning the Days
I was fire then everything burned the days the hours
quickened each night as darkness came thermal belts and fine smoke
led us out to scorch the dark the next day our work
under a canopy of clouds swinging our arms like lanterns
The poems I like most in John Freeman’s new collection come in the book’s second section, focused on trees. These seem to operate within the same rooted, deliberate grandeur of a grove of old-growth hardwoods. Freeman, a careful arborist, attends to each branch and leaf, describing what we might learn from the world by learning to read the messages communicated by the many vibrant living beings surrounding us.
The author has a powerful perspective that peers into the tangible structures of the world. And the intangible he brings forth to write with them like they were made of feathers. My mom bought this book in San Diego and lent it to me while I stay at a psychiatric shelter in Missouri. It's good to see images of the outside world. Thank you, John Freeman. I wish you blessed sparks of natural hope and much more to come. From Ryan.
This collection roams from Greenwich village to Pennsylvania churches, observing the gestures of trees and birds, marveling at the remains and how we go on living without key people.