Sunday 8 September 2013

TWIGS BOUGHS AND BRANCHES:



Once fronded & frilled, but now of leaf no longer,
Lingering lonesome & no more virile, nor stronger,
No more shielded by leaves, but only God´s vows,
Standing alone, twigs, branches & old winter boughs.

Garbed in beige, taupe, brown & peeled mottled greys,
Standing silent, denuded sentinels of long winter days,
Weeping their dripping sad droplets, of cold icicled tears,
Instilling in the passing wanderer, icy & irrational fears.

Smooth & slender, or those of rough & rugged old bark,
Waving under grey skies & bending arms low after dark,
The winsome whisperings of their silent vacant voices,
Standing lonesome, winter trees without any choices.

With the shifting of sunlight & nature´s soft elegant turn,
New buds burst forth, birthing leaves of oak, beech & fern,
Leaves, sketched, painted & daubed, in a myriad of greens,
Now, twigs, branches & boughs, be-robed & fit to be seen.

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