Outside My Window
outside my window
palest of new leaf green
spreads across my boreal forest
covering the sky
so prominent in winter
I say my forest because
I know each tree intimately
it belongs to me
as if any human can own
something so immense
never physically touching
my mind has taken in
every inch of nuance
song of flush sap, its music
flowing higher and higher
branch, bud and leaf
I belong to it because
we have exchanged thoughts
I have rejoiced at its renewal
wept when I heard the long cry
of its death at the hand of man
clearing for no other reason
than his aesthetics.
They are brave and abiding
dignified and humorous
persistently repeating life
beyond my window.
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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