poem

 Winter BreaksI ’m that scraggly tree over thereLooming over all the rest,A wicker brush dustingOff a film of sootAn arthritic claw Grasping at empty gray,Ruing all the lovely thingsNo longer there to clutch  I think I ’m the oneScratching at the sky Shaking my fistIn a shivering anger But it ’s just the MarchWind rushing inTo fill a void leftBy your fleeing chillThat sways my trunk and limbsAnd thesaplings and hibiscuses And the reeds and grasses,And all the world I ’m standing inSo I give up the scratchingAnd imagine the winds asA shaman blowing into being One more fecund spring 3/31/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 31, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs