The Shape of Trees Now Past Prime
The Shape of Trees Now Past Prime
The shape of trees now past prime,
Bent by the wind, have lost their green.
Grotesque forms, gnarled and withered,
Wildly express senescence.
Along shores, disfigurements lean,
in summer’s heat and winter’s freeze.
Sucker shoots sprout up from roots,
Desperately grasping for life.
Playful tease as in sleight of hand
Where waves beckon, “Come explore the land.”
The trees bend as age quells support
From impaired health and dying will.
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