Best Elms Poems

Old Elms in the Snow

It snows this day
upon Your work.
The elms seem sad,
their bark wrinkled fingers
aimlessly appoint. 

Piped in ermine, winter
ballerina limbs
take permanent position,
frozen supplicant or
petrified pirouette.

Winter grows still
my God.

Kathryn M. Collins...

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When all our words have been spoken
whether in conflict or love
when we find ourselves under the Elms
holding the wrinkled hand of time in comfort
treasuring each breath as a precious flower
scented with the memories of years
     will we remember each moon filled...

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