Poem of the Week | A Tree’s First Frost by David O’Sullivan

A Tree’s First Frost

By David O’Sullivan

 

I feel for you

this cold morning

your old die,

 

all around, sadness.

Then with both hands

I hold, comfort

 

your extremities.

Painful to my hands

trying to warm,

 

no thaw

the first frost.

With my touch

 

I felt a oneness,

knew in that moment

you understand

 

life cycles

better than I

ever will.

 

Cold death now

your leaves fall,

timely tears.


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Cover photo by Claus Grünstäudl on Unsplash

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