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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2214820
A cluster of trees protest a gate of wood.







A Thousand Silent Woods


A cluster of trees

walk to and fro

on a busy sidewalk of fallen leaves,

before a gate of wood.


Dead leaves and grass line the floor

instead of concrete,

beneath the standstill marchers

and the gate-once-tree,

while busy trunks play legs

in an illusion of movement.


"Would that we could walk,"

they seem to say,

"for we then might strike

and protest the use

of our brethren

to build a wicket of wood!"


Woody knots run up and down the posts,

circular portents of the living trees

that once bore leaves,

absent but not forgotten.


Leaves atop, leaves on the ground:

A wooden gate in the center,

as the trees march on

to the tune of a thousand silent woods.





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