Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Friday, April 04, 2014

D is for . . .Deciduous

I would rather be like you, 
oak, elm, maple,
shedding leaves at the proper season,
that flame of red in the fall,
my branches mere sticks in the winter,
when the birds turn south,
lighter somehow
of those night terrors,
able to see showers of stars
through my bones.

Then into spring which brings
the barest of buds,
through that season of gray rain,
when songbirds return
and build nests in my hair,
their chirps a joyful noise,
as I bloom full summer green,
the round of days before 
and to come:
infinity.

Japanese Garden
Manito Park, Spokane (Camp 2011)