Loblollies and What They Teach Me
Why sigh? What is distressing you up there in the sky?What are you whispering and to whom, and why?
Must be the relentless thrust of the cold north wind, not I.
Grayish-brown bark, like weathered shingles overlap,
the scent of prominent needles and viscous sap
leave trails down the trunk like a haphazard map.
A bouquet of spindly spikes bobbing green against the blues
clouds of white, gray and countless other hues
as majestic and breathtaking as cedar, fir or yews.
Would that I could take a stand as resolute and tall.
Then, no wild zephyr, gale, cyclone, or random squall
would bluster me, shake me, or cause me to fall.
Poetry by William Hughes
Read 35 times
Written on 2025-12-11 at 01:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
