Monday, January 15, 2007

A withered tree
no leaves
no life
is still not a dead thing
for even that tree
has the memory of green summers
in the sun
and knows to wait
for spring and
the songs of baby birds.

1 comment:

Luke said...

Starting to see a style in your poems. Specific to you. COOL! :)

One Poem and One Day At A Time

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