In a recent New York Times opinion piece, ‘In the Shelter of a Weeping Beech,’ Jesse Wegman wrote about his mother who “loved all trees, but this weeping beech was her favorite. It’s hard to describe the experience of being in its presence, but she tried. In the journal she kept while she was sick, she wrote that the tree appeared to her ‘as a herd of elephants huddled together, pressing their massive bodies together, with their trunks entwined.’
Only a few months earlier, I had a similar experience standing in a grove of oak trees and tried to capture it by creating the photographic diptych displayed above. I then wrote some poetic narrative to accompany the image. Here it is:
It was strange
walking under the trees beside the lake
to find myself surrounded and embraced
by a grove of towering old oaks
in the dusty dusk of twilight
as if I had wandered in among
a herd of elephants swaying where they stood
somehow welcoming me
to share the silence of a summer evening
The Final Stretch 
I really enjoyed that. I too have though of closely placed White Oaks resembling elephant legs. Well done.
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What a beautiful simile, the elephants’ legs and the trees trunks. Your poem is inspiring. Thank you for leading me to these two posts about trees.
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