Poetry, Essays and Art By J.H. Dickinson from All-Creatures.org

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Sycamore

Beloved
sycamore,
embedded history.

Now without form,
cut from memory
of all.

On a night of roaring wind
and darkened landscape,
bitter humans,
white knuckled rage.

To a morn of shock,
rippling with the sorrow
of a reshaped world.

The North – cries.
The country – weeps.
In bewildered state,
your image – gone.

Yet now you ripple with life
of seedlings born.
In 150 years
you’ll flourish, mature.
And rest in place.

And I’ll be bones.
Yet on the wind,
I’ll feel the sway of your branches.
As you stand once more,
rooted.

© 2025 J.H. Dickinson

This is a poem and accompanying painting that I recently created in homage to 'Sycamore Gap,' on Hadrian's Wall in the Northeast of England - a magical place where I frequently walk.

The iconic tree was brutally felled in an act of revenge towards the National Trust, and discovered on the morning of 28 September 2023. Even now, it still has visitors flock to the empty spot, it is such an iconic place.

Good news came in August 2024, when notable new growth appeared at the remaining stump of the tree. Also, with the wonderful cultivation of its saplings, other sycamore trees will now be planted across the country. The tree's new growth has very much become a symbol - of 'hope,' in these difficult times.

Learn more about the Sycamore Gap tree here

Go on to: Take a deep breath and try again
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