Poetry in a Pandemic: Skeleton Trees
Ah, there they are — The skeleton trees
Towering structures barren of leaves
No more growth, no orange or green
Ugly and bleak, how I like them to be
Cause it blends so well, with the cold, harsh sun
The very one that I grew up on
New England winter, bleach-dried hellscape
Manifold forests of death and decay
Still, they stand- wiry and tall
Sturdy things, loathe to fall
Waiting for God’s crystalline tears
To adorn their form, til they are beautiful once more
Poetry in a Pandemic offers local readers a chance to share their poetry written during or related to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic. To contribute, email email@example.com.
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