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Posted by Jeff Condon on October 18, 2008
On a the edge of a cliff, at the end of the rainbow, lie the hopes of dendroclimatology
A stout trunked ten thousand year old oddity
Impervious to wind, rain, sun and fog
With a heart of wood and the full bark of a log
No insect can harm it
No woodcutter can farm it
With secrets hidden for only the enlightened few to see.
What will you reveal, what will we see, when we finally find
The Great Thermometer Tree.
JLB said
Hi Jeff, I found your poem while looking for discussions about dendroclimatology. Thanks for sharing your musings.