Gray
tendrils,
Laid
barren by the Fall,
Swaying
gently in the cruel wind,
Fake
slumber and patiently wait.
Phloem
and xylem stir sluggishly
As
the cells drink Summer’s wages.
Naked
under bitter Winter’s skies,
They
give evidence of hope for Spring.
Reiterations
of Nature’s design
For
rivers and dendrites and split ends.
The
eye knows the lonely, fragile, dying limbs;
Yet
the heart sees their graceful subliminal youth.
(excerpted from Minna Pegeen)
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