Woodlands

The young should never have to see
The winnowing of years,
The withering of stately trees
To crooked bent-back twigs
Returning broken to the earth,

All time will leave behind
With quiet certainty.

You were strong and green.
We rested safe inside your shade.
We never saw a sign,
Too blind to autumn winds
And flaking bark.

The scars will cover much,
Enough,
Aside the twisted twine
By scattered branches,
Thin and mutilated from disease
And cruelty

The elderly should never have to see.

- 3/14/25

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