Notes About The Poem

Many aged trees on our friends' property destroyed by a tornado.
 

A Fissure In the Fabric

Perfect tapestry,
a hundred years in the weaving.
Tiny sprouts 
grown into giant oaks,
sheltering birds, squirrels,

filtering the sun, 
shading the lane to our 
home, our sanctuary.

Ripped from the earth's fabric
by tornado's twisted spin, 
roots exposed to the elements,
leaves wilting, turning brown.

Tapestry destroyed. 
Can it be re-woven, restored?
Will the mending take 
another hundred years?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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Bauer Avatar
November 19, 2014 at 3:43 PM
i love the title and how descriptively you've described this sad event. too bad it had to happen...
Adams Avatar
November 19, 2014 at 4:44 PM
Yes, these things are devastating and sometimes extremely difficult to pull out of. Not only did our friends lose all those trees, the tornado also took the roof off their house.
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