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- 06/19/2020
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 71. Along the Creek
Along the Creek
The cottonwoods are falling one by one
no longer standing tall beneath the sun
but prostrate do they lie
and never will the west wind make them sway
that now the forest litter and decay
no more to touch the sky.
So few among their number still remain
with arms outstretched to catch the falling rain,
the lonely waters weep;
their sorrow spreading swiftly ‘cross the glen,
a dark reflecting pool beyond our ken,
in which spring’s secrets keep.
And now break out the songs of axe and saw
triumphant, as on much-ringed bones they gnaw
their years to chip and dust;
o’er lea and field they play their requiem,
but falling silent, none remember them,
as one day they will rust.
To swale and stream our wan’dring steps return
where carcass trees lie prostrate in the fern
a miracle behold;
for from an ancient trunk there in its grave
spring up a dozen scions green and brave
as youth renews the old.
If you, a weary traveler in this poetic land, choose to leave a comment or a thought, I will be very grateful.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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