Been a while since I shared some poems. So here's one for you all. By way of background, I was sitting under a tree during the recent weekend away, a tree which perhaps I identified with a little.
the leaves, orange red,
tree, marks a heart,
weary, thirsty, frail.
Spirit.
faded, failing, futile threads.
plowing, pruning,
in season,
out of season, yeilds fruit
fruit, promises much, but brings tears.
on the waters edge, but parched
well fed, well nourished, the heart unsatisfied
the sheets won't stretch, the beds too small
oh for the stagnant stream to flow.
the dam is mine.
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