A walk down a country road takes an eerie turn when the speaker sees an old, bent tree past the Jarboe house. The tree has no face, but it seems to look at her anyway — through its trunk, its bark, and the dark yellow wrinkles on its sides. The feeling comes not just from the tree’s shape but from the way the road goes on to other places while this one strange presence stays fixed on her. She runs, but when she looks back, the tree appears to be leaning out even farther, still watching. The speaker is both curious and spooked, drawn to look but too unsettled to stay. The tree never moves openly, but its silent attention makes the roadside feel less safe. The poem creates a hushed, uneasy mood, the kind that comes when an ordinary object suddenly feels alive. It is less about danger than about being seen by something that should not have eyes.
Strange Tree — Summary
Away beyond the Jarboe house I saw a different kind of tree. Its trunk was old and large and bent, And I could feel it look at me.
The road was going on and on Beyond to reach some other place. I saw a tree that looked at me, And yet it did not have a face.
It looked at me with all its limbs; It looked at me with all its bark. The yellow wrinkles on its sides Were bent and dark.
And then I ran to get away, But when I stopped to turn and see, The tree was bending to the side And leaning out to look at me.