The Broken Tree
by Howard Eskildsen
Not the picture of serenity,
It wavered quite uncertainly
A running crack
Had split its back
And jeopardized its destiny
For a time it made some feeble shade
A trembling perch for a wandering jay
Propped up by rope
With the barest hope
Of standing for another day
Whether by flaw or fate’s design
It could only be a matter of time
Till a gusting blow
Would lay it low
Entangled in its twisted lines
Few were very much surprised
By its sudden splintery demise
Though feelings grated
And were exasperated
Life continued otherwise
Now there sets the barest stump
Waiting to be taken up
To be replaced in time
With a stronger kind
That can bear the wind and weather’s brunt
A memorial to all the “stumps” that I have taken up thanks to work and weather.
#work #weather #stumps #twistedlines
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