Dressed in Green

Dressed in Green

Never have I

Hungered more for

a robe of new leaves

 for just

one week.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

Winter

stripped this

land

of a hundred

trees –

at least.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

Spring stole

the rain.

Broken limbs

haunt my dreams.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

I am a graveyard

for dying birch,

some still arc –

taut bow strings

shriek and fall in 

Northwest wind.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

Crushed gray

speckled trunks

crisscross paths 

threaten over head.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

Beneath my feet –

 a broken

young forest –

surrenders her grief.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

 Gaping tree wounds

won’t heal.

Cracked crowns weep.

I’m caught in a

 Circle of  Red.

There should

Be a word for

this kind of mourning

she said.

Never have I

hungered more

 to be robed in

 wrinkled new leaves,

  a wreath of flowers

upon my head.

 One dark cloud –

At dawn pale gray …

 A woodland canvas

  painted in

 emerald, lime,

   and wine.

Wrapped and bathed

 in forest green

I fear the heat rising…

It’s too late for rain.

3 thoughts on “Dressed in Green

  1. Tom, we have these dark clouds but never a drop of rain… its been there months… just now so beautiful but crispy is ahead and I so miss spring. By the way I loved your last post but could not comment – what keeps coming up is email address etc and when i go to put it in it tells me I’m a different person… did this three times before giving up – any suggestions?

    Like

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