Marilyn Clarke Poet I do not know?

The Old Tree

A twisted and deformed tree stood, silhouetted against the sky,
Reached up its claw-like twigs as if in anguished cry,

Bare of it's lush summer coverage the winter through,
As between the branches webbed winged bats flew

The bark all rotted and scarred, with termite trails,
And gaping wounds left by yearly storms and gales

Here and there, clumps of grass and feather
Left by resting birds, sheltering from icy weather,

Icicles from the crooked boughs, hung toward the ground,
And the moon gliding without cause or sound,

As the great trunk groaned at the wind that lashed,
And then with creak and shudder and last sigh,
It crashed.

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Carol Sunshine Brown February 1, 2012 at 6:25 AM I have truly enjoyed reading your poetry you have posted here at PoetrySoup. You are a very special poet and I wish you the best in your life and with your poetry. Two thumbs up to you Marilyn. Love and best wishes always, Carol