Windstorm

All around me
The trees are sad

Violence broken,
Torn and bent

On their sides, they die
Hopeless and tired

Gale forced, uprooted
And wind weary

In one searing night
A landscape gone stark

Bitter, naked limbs
Stabbing upward, shamed

Black and silver ghosts,
Silhouettes on cold skies

The birds are awkward,
Leaf and canopy blown

I don’t know them, no,
These barren bones

All around me
The trees are sad

~m

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2 Responses to Windstorm

  1. Lisa says:

    Where we live, we have might winds several times every year. I am trying to be like the trees here, the ones that have survived and grown stronger. Thank you Myra.

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