Old Tree Poem by kathleen bartholomew

Old Tree. 17th January 2009

Old tree, tall, silky –
a figured hand
stripped bare of bark,
exposing the reality of age:
Moss clinging on one side of
each scrawny branch
reaching for the sky,
and
firmly standing on the ground

immersed in green flood light
in the dark night,
she eerily waves
silently
saying so many different things
through rain, snow and wind.
And ages past.

Last night the golden dog fox
stood, awesome
by her side
aligned, perched, on the seat that rests
in the moonlight.

By Kathleen Bartholomew