Treasure Island

Francis Santaquilani


Trees Again


Three consecutive, angry, late Autumn

Frosts ate their way up the towering kudzu blanket

Thrown over the tall trees along the road up to

The mountain.

Ravaging the thick leaves like millions of ravenous moths

Feasting at a buffet of deep green cloth.


Though tattered, browning and unraveling,

The weekend's sun mended the blanket somehow

And the trees were still not trees.


Monday dragged in a weeks worth of cold, hard rain.

By Friday the blanket was threadbare but still

Clinging to the trees. Saturday's biting wind finally

Pulled the blanket down.


The trees were trees again.

Giddy to see the sky. Relieved

The long summer of peeking through small

Holes for sun and air, and catching

Odd stares from passing cars and walkers

Is over. Just happy to be seen for what they are again

And not gaudy kudzu towers, dragons, gaping ghosts, or

In my case, my father's stern, pointed face.

Submitted: Thursday, January 05, 2006

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