Ground of Zero
The night rain had shorn
my neighboring trees
standing so stalwart
in their convivial circle four.
The wistful dawning
be shining on skeletal shapes
Hung with but scarce few
yellowed-brown-sienna leaves
to drape their skinny heights.
For the force of Wind and Fall
had stripped
their grace of arms
quite bare.
Yet
within those skeletal swaying branches,
untouched
by rain or snow or wind,
Flows their elixir pure
but awaiting the hand of Spring
to fashion dress
with fresh new-green attire
my neighboring family four.
Would such certainty
had I
Seeing fallen
upon my treeless
ground of zero
pieces that once were me.
Only a ‘perhaps’ have I
that I and me
again might see
the comfort of a greening Spring,
Might feel anew
warmth eternal,
that in a winter moment
does seem
so spectral faint
to be.
Copyright © Sarah Ann Jullion | Year Posted 2023
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