Posted: September 6, 2014 in poetry

Trimming trees of long-lived growth
snapping the green branches of hope
cutting away the dry and dead
and cracking the swollen joints

The axeman takes one-handed strokes
Slicing white flesh through green ripe skin
unmeasured clean painless cuts
ground heaping of fallen limbs

No blood or blinding tears are shed
no screams of sad defeat
Among the roots the limbs the leaves
The tree stands still and straight


  1. Love the flow of this one! I read it out loud. 🙂
    I find two meanings here…one to nature and one to human life.
    We all need a good pruning on occasion.
    It, also, makes me think about how there is a necessity for all kinds of people and jobs. Each person doing their part, maybe doing what someone else can’t or doesn’t know how to do.

    How you doing this whee-kend?!
    HUGS!!! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ~ Sadie ~ says:

    Beautiful rhythm! You write some lovely poetry!! I sometimes wonder . . . do you think they silently scream?

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s