The Easter of the Bare Tree
In the March
of the bitter wind,
even the glitter of
the lake at its silver
hour denies its power
in sorrow perpetua
for severed limbs
caught in the yaw
of the merciless saw
of spring naysayers
in need of prayers
for this crucifixion.
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment