The Hollow Tree
The hollow tree of a man, squirreling things away the best he can, to fill, this knotted hole the plan; this oak an upward alluvial fan, withstanding the wind, deadpan,
with all his leaves and full of little nuts but with one little crack, now it juts. The gaping heartwood the wind, now cuts. The constant pecking of time cracks become ruts,
intruding unwanted things move in Now full but no healing within, becoming an ever widening den
Slowly growing ,weathered and old,
the wind now moans, across the span
of an empty hole, that never shuts
but unknown to the tree life does begin.
The treasure he sought was already sunk,
and through the young sapling, this story is told MINUANETTA - Poetry Contest 2/10/2018
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2018
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