There is an emptiness to slender trees from which the layer of leaves
They’ve shed has only begun to melt into the undergrowth
Their youth apparent in the quick twittering of their branches
As the wind tunes their keys to a song that is played by the sun
Time will give their youth over to watchful wisdom
Mosses creeping up gnarled trunks
Tiny feeding wolves snapping warily at newcomer’s disturbance
It is strangely comforting to feel their tiny teeth
Scraping warily upon my soul.
About the Poem
It is a good idea to plant more trees and also to take care of any old-growth forests that are left. They know what they are doing and if you walk into a forest that has mostly been left to its own devices, it will have produced layer upon layer of sustenance for an ecosystem that does not have to include mankind.
About the Author
She lives in a house dominated by three cats, two dogs, two sons, a mother, and a husband, and writes in spontaneous outbursts or not at all.