10 April 2012

At the edge of the wood

There is a tree
at the edge of the wood
silver-bare bark
hole-riddled, branches
twisting toward clouds,
the only green
mistletoe hanging
from highest limbs...

...I wait for my son
to finish his day.
When the school liberates
the children, a rush
of black and blue, a blur
of chatter, small panic
worms under my ribs
until his gold mane shines.


Prompt=tree and/or forest. This inspired by the struggle of all children to belong--and to individuate. Peace...

1 comment:

  1. Lovely and poignant. I know this feeling. You put it in perfect context.


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