(Image credits: Pamela Clark)
Mother Tree
Stooped low, bowing to the underbrush you have conquered many storms in your time But this last one, the winds, how they blew and you cracked now lying horizontal an appendage of your former statuesque self Helicoptering over the seedlings you have nurtured to grow upright Shooting up from their roots you have given them the foundation to flourish deep in detritus and duff Mulched and mossy tangled and taut Your seedlings rise up from the earthen horizon reaching for the rays phototropism power surpasses that of the storm Greater than the wind sunlight wins every time You feel it one seedling taps your weakened spine asks permission Emerging through your heart rot your vulnerability, its life
Pam Clark is a published poet, novelist and educator weaving her love of nature into her work. She believes poetry is a pathway to entice, engage and engender empathy.