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The Lichen
The lichen clings to his trunk
Like she has for ages
Holding fast, curling tight
In pale green companionship
The oak tree smiles down at her
Craggy smile, chafed and gnarled with time
To admire her diligence, to coexist
At the meeting place where two form one
When the rain taps in multitudes on his leaves
When the night sweeps over like a funeral veil
When the day lifts it as a morning bride
Still she holds him, squeezing herself to his chest
He begins to wonder, as trees sometimes do
If it is time for her to uncurl, unlatch
For all the gifts that she provides, and he returns
Perhaps it’s time to diverge, to greet separate horizons
But a stubborn, steadfast thing she is
And for all his hoping and itching for progress
She holds on, past the eleventh hour
Past his need for her embrace
And now when the wind whistles through,
It sounds more like a wistful sigh,
For the lichen promises and whispers
And the fond old oak tree complies
“Loving someone enough to let them go
doesn’t always work.”
Saturday, January 30, 2021
For Joseph May’s contest “Fabled Musings”
Copyright ©
Jeremy Martin
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