I am
looking at the tree
that a
couple of years ago
was only a
stalk there, in the corner.
It was a
garden once, this space
in front of
my kitchen window,
just weeds
now, weeds and garbage bags
and a
disused fridge from the bar
that closed
ages ago.
No noise
downstairs then by now, only the forlorn
perspective
of whatever might be born.
And this
tree, in this small
frame of
wilderness, or a reminder of bereavement;.
a tree
that’s a tree, three storey high by now,
so lean and
tall, beautiful all in all,
the casual
allusion to agile limbs
and a
nimble life within, an offer
to the sky
above.
On the tips
of the thin branches
buds have
recently appeared
that now
are already small leaves
that seem
to know what they want:
they gaze
at my gaze and tease.
5 comments:
I really like the image of the tree's offering to the sky. So beautiful.
I like this tree as a symbol of hope in the middle of a garden that's become wasteland
Thank you Kass and Juliet.
I'm not a poem guy but I like your style. It's not overly complicated and it paints a picture in my mind. Very nice!
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