Writing from the perspective of a tree.
Seasons they come and go, happy, sad and joyous occasions
It is Autumn now my foliage, turning from lush green
To a glowing but fading gold
Limbs now exposed to the chill of oncoming Winter
Shortened days, humid evenings
Summer has flown a time I itched with flies.
Winter when my flesh is bare as leaf after leaf flutters to earth
I long for Spring and again giving birth
Until then I must perish beneath the winter sun and hoarfrost
Then at season change, leaves will fill each tree with another shade.
Following winter storms, with open arms I welcome Spring
I shall not ruminate on what went before
My boughs will forget the pain, as eyelids open
With each bead like eye I’ll welcome the passer-by
Then the delight of Summer, as I watch out over wheat-fields
The God of nature brings summer in full regalia
While the rook caws lazily.
(c) Chris Black. November 2018
~The Poet’s Poet~