Just
Just a single tree standing against the clouded backdrop. Who does it whisper to.
Calling
With the summer clothes cast
I stand with limps out stretched
Against the painted morning sky
Around me a carpet glistens
like stars laying at my feet
…
Only whispers from my kin reach me now,
Where limps once touched
across the country wide.
When the winds played,
the rattle of our tongue could be heard.
…
Now alone I stand
limbs still reach but no touch to be had
No kin with in reach,
Oh to be touched in my last day’s
before decay.
24/10/13
George McNeill Photography 
Beautiful shot George!
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Thank you, this tree is something I see ever day from my back yard.
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wow, a wonderful composition and a wonderful poem!!
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Thank you, the poem was written about a tree I use to see on my way home in the morning’s. It stood alone in winter bare and a hard frost around it. The sound of trees in a wood, in a strong wind sounds like they talk to each other but the lone tree can never return that sound. And the touch of trees are needed if the decay of earth and man is to be avoided.
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Beautiful! Never ceases to awaken the spirit ☘
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Thanks H, like the tree the spirit stands alone within us.
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