The Tree

chasing_sunsets

Draped against the setting sun is the

black silhouette of a tree without leaves.

In the late autumn he is bare, like

a skeleton, quivering in the breeze.

 

Upon his limbs perch the birds, gathered

to provide their friend with good company.

But when the season becomes too cold

they retreat to where they will be kept warmly.

 

Forgotten, then, he will stand amidst the

open field, unnoticed by all who happen passed.

And not until the air is warmed will

his friends return, singing of sunniness.

 

The tree is alone when seasons

are cold, and cherished when seasons are warm.

He must learn to brave the winter while

standing there, frigid, naked, twisted, torn.

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Comments +

Comments3

  • Goldfinch60

    That tree will always be there and come to life in Spring. Good words.

    Welcome to MPS

  • L. B. Mek

    Brave it and survive it
    so that someday
    We may get a chance
    to Thrive: Despite - it...
    (a good read, thanks for sharing)

    • chasing_sunsets

      Thank you, and I love your poetic response!

    • Accidental Poet

      I'm mostly a Spring and Summer sort, but there is a stark beauty in Winter's effect on the world we see. And you acknowledge that so well here cs. 😉



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