Widowed Pine
I stood staring at the widowed pine, gently lamenting in the wind.
Yesterday there were two reaching up to touch the light.
But seems a storm has come, as was its time,
came to clear, and did viciously tear
the younger, weaker pine from there.
Those two, who by random chance
and chaotic happenstance did fall once as seeds
and grew through the years beside each other,
had found each other “good enough,”
but one did now lie broken across the slough.
The tree not felled woefully mourned over the broken stump.
For it was sure that their lives had been entwined
and were to be for some long time, something like forever.
Without a single doubt the pine had thought
that God had chosen their growing spot.
And now, not so, and yet it still grows.
They had become accustomed only by luck.
And now, as luck fails, it joins the lonely trees,
and in time will stop its wails, and then will find
that to stare off without the stifling of will,
is not so harsh a thing at all.
bwd
I stood staring at the widowed pine, gently lamenting in the wind.
Yesterday there were two reaching up to touch the light.
But seems a storm has come, as was its time,
came to clear, and did viciously tear
the younger, weaker pine from there.
Those two, who by random chance
and chaotic happenstance did fall once as seeds
and grew through the years beside each other,
had found each other “good enough,”
but one did now lie broken across the slough.
The tree not felled woefully mourned over the broken stump.
For it was sure that their lives had been entwined
and were to be for some long time, something like forever.
Without a single doubt the pine had thought
that God had chosen their growing spot.
And now, not so, and yet it still grows.
They had become accustomed only by luck.
And now, as luck fails, it joins the lonely trees,
and in time will stop its wails, and then will find
that to stare off without the stifling of will,
is not so harsh a thing at all.
bwd
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