13 Trees
I sense them calling through my chest.
Their counsel in my head.
Through thin winds shining shellfish light
I'm shown the way in red.
Their dead sound calmly drawing down
a crescent chambered brood.
As isolation fills me sad
with scars a park has strewed.
That everywhere I think I can
I'll look where more should be.
And everywhere I hope I can
accept that 13th tree.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2018
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