I swear there is anger
in this twig of rebirth,
scolding me wordlessly
from the quieting earth.
Cut down to stump,
yet there’s a new tree
in the light of October,
the last greenery
blushing to gold
in that crystalline sun
in praise of the stubbornness,
renewal begun.
In contemptuous huff,
strong-spined and proud,
Giving up, it chided me,
is
not
allowed.
When I happened upon this stubborn tree, it seemed personal, and I’d been wanting to write something about it. I was fumbling about until I read Kerfe’s Thursday Doors post today. It unlocked some words for me. Thanks, Kerfe!
Oddments 