The tree wintered
well enough, holding
her leaves through
cold, spring, and drought.
She stands alone, leaves
a rosy brown, surrounded
by the green
and the thorns
of the living.
The wind blows one last
breath through. She cries
once more, stronger
than wind provides.
Her cry calling
out the sun,
and the rain,
and the dark,
and the pain.
Her form remains
reminding those
in the wood,
of life’s branches
-connectedness-
the fraying and knitting
of friends and strangers.
l
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i think the standing alone touched me most here..still surrounded by greens and thorns..still connected in a way but about to leave and this train we’re boarding def. alone though holding someone’s hand…i hope..
Loved yes, plenty of thorns surrounding ..I hadn’t seen the negative experience amongst living relatives like this before. I wasn’t related, but the bitterness was intense.
sad
Yes, it was. I hope things are cooler today. Thanks for reading.
nice…we are all connected you know….the thorns of the living…i know that…i hope the narrator still feels the connectedness becuase sometimes that is hard in the moment…
I felt the connection though I am unrelated ..she was a hell of a woman. Thanks for reading.
Wonderful personification that led me to read this a couple of times because of the layering of symbols.
Thank you Victoria. The trees were just of the hospital, the one between the others.