Wednesday, October 23, 2013


By quiet, glacial pond
stands a solitary tree.
Its roots upon the banks
hold taut the loose earth.

And there proud it stands,
not as a tree among trees,
but one of noble girth,
to shed upon the liquid face
of the nearby companion,
a colorful profusion of leaves.

In reply, the viscous surface speaks,
sending perfect ringlet waves
toward yonder bank, where,
the tree now nearly bare, laps them up but cannot share.

Then, as skin transforms to ice,
as tawny bark becomes slate gray,
connections halt between the pair,
until spring thaws ice away,
and with it, renewed attempts
at communion.

(c) 2013 by Roger W. Bodo  \- All rights Reserved

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