"Is This the Town "

Photo courtesy of Del Sarlette

Is this the town where I used to live?

Is this the place where I 

walked elm covered streets 

to places familiar. 

Is this the town where

 I spent my time.  

This town is now 

empty and lost. 

The faces are there, hidden 

inside houses behind 

curtain drawn windows. 

Inside they shelter, keeping busy 

doing everything and often 

nothing at all. 

Are these the faces that 

I used to know. 

These faces are now 

suspended in time. 

We live in a world that has been 

postponed for a while. 

Nature is aloof to our petty 

situation. It continues, it evolves,

it moves to the same rhythm 

as it always has. 

Is this the world that 

I used to know?

The world now takes 

time to repair. 

The Empty Trees

The empty trees are merely 

patterns against the
blue, gray  morning sky.
 Silhouettes of black lace spread
 out over the watercolor horizon.
Shades of pale pink wash
 into yellow and crimson.

They reach to touch the sky. 

Gnarled, rough elephant skinned 

bark of gray and brown. 

The empty trees stand silent 

across the landscape. 

Arching, twisting, spreading. 

Sentinels of the natural world. 

They reach to touch the sky. 

Deep inside the massive trunk,
 sap moves through veins
to the sleeping buds above.
A resurrection of new life
awaits them, the christlike
 tree holds its arms to the sun.
They reach to touch the sky.

Spring holds a promise that the
empty trees haven't forgotten.
They wait silently in suspended
anticipation. To be patient is to
be a tree... what else is there?
Roots spreading beneath the soil,
they reach to touch the sky.

Abandoned bird houses sway on
breezes from distant places.
The wind carries rain to feed
new life, birds to fill the houses.
Skeletons of yesterdays leaves
hang lifeless on empty limbs.
They reach to touch the sky.

The memories of by gone
 summers linger deep within
your old soul. The soul of a
tree isn't something to be
questioned. Of course trees
have souls! Trees pray as
they reach to touch the sky.

And so it goes for the empty trees,
their ancient lives ever changing,
yet always staying the same.
Rooted to the land in which
they were born. Planted by hand
or by chance, or by fate,
they reach to touch the sky.


"The End"