Inspired by a photo of a tree standing bare on a mountain.
Stark as a Ravens breast, you stand forlorn,
Stripped of succulents, laid bare to the world.
The great blue sky with its innocent clouds,
Mocks the majesty of what you used to be.
What does the sky know of the life you have led?
Of the trim green boughs that sang with the wind?
Of the cooling shadows you cast far below,
Lulling hot, weary travelers to sleep.
It’s true the great sky, gives the bird wing,
But twas your heart, that made them a home,
Your strength and endurance went not unseen,
By the mountains that sleep far below.
Through the mighty winds and driving rains,
Anchored with vengeance, you did not move,
Enduring the snow and the winters frost,
You voiced no complaint, as on sentry you stood.
Rest now my friend, for your work has been done,
And though you are brittle and frail,
The echoes of youth still sing in your branches,
As the song of your life they unfold.