stories in the trees

In response to prompt here: readwritepoem

The hoary trees whisper with pulsating limbs.
We burn their arms and legs without hearing
Stories of bird children terrified to sleep at night.
Falls to the ground are not always quick and painless.
Trembling tree hands touch the clouds,
We can see the sun and the sun is dying
The truth of all fires; it’s just that some fires burn longer.
And the vulture flew to the sun;
Returned without sunburnt head.

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4 Comments

  1. Love the imagery and personification in this poem, especially “pulsating limbs,” “trembling tree hands.” If you haven’t read the book “The Secret Life of Plants,” I highly recommend it!

    Great write!

    ~Mark

    Reply
  2. Lovely poem – the sort that continues to burn in the head.

    Reply
  3. This is good truly.Sun has stopped giving burns – loved that image.

    Reply

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