Kristen Rohder Poet Blank verse

Brittle Finger Tree

Brittle finger tree slouching alone, ignored on by the breeze.
		
Days float under your toes,
no hands of friends to hold.
		Poor, brittle finger tree you pray to the Son and sleep in the rain.
			No heart to listen,
no pocket watch to keep—no time to know
how old you’d be if today a cake appeared with candles aglow.

Brittle finger tree wrestling alone.
Recklessly diving into the ground 
unmeaning to disturb baby birds whom house themselves 
in your little, bitter world.
	
	Brittle little finger tree, someday, you must grow. 
As people pass they find themselves apart of your earth.
		You’ll feel the circle of life—you’ll imagine
pretty little girls and boys carving their love into your skin—no blood--- no blood will flow.

	Brittle little finger tree, your last breath has flown.
		Taken from your finger tips, left dying on sallow grounds.
	
	No one can always stand straight. Lean, my brittle little love, alone.

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Debbie Guzzi September 7, 2011 at 5:00 PM so touching I have been babying a japanese maple all summer that got to dry. I almost waited too long! New life is coming from it now in fall [sigh] I was neglegant! light & love