Saturday, April 9, 2016

Trees.

How fine the barren
The stripped
The widowed land

Once lofty
Proud crowns
Whose kings are
Whose queens are
Gone.

Less than a memory
Less than a dream

Where are the gods now?
Grasping. Grasping.
Give them breath.
Fill them again.
With new towering life.

No comments:

Post a Comment