Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Ghost Bird(12/30) and Death of a Tree(13/30)

12/30 Ghost Bird
I spy red eyes peeking through silver trees
I hear shrieks. Caws sound in my heart
Deep in midnight blue.

13/30 Death of a Tree
Today I spotted a tree torn down by the wind
I took out a flask of tea and sat, watching the wind gnaw at it.
It tore the bark, peeled back layers soft as orange peel.
A squirrel scuttled round my feet,
froze and looked at me with sad green eyes.
"I am alone," it said. "The big old oak has died."
I looked up at the sky as a gentle rain began to fall,
gathering myself up, silent I walked home.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love how in Death of a Tree, your own reaction to the tree's death is not explicit and yet the poem is still saturated with an unspoken, wordless reaction.

Very well read, too! It's nice to finally hear your spoken voice.