In Mourning For A Tree |
Issue 11
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I heard the ungodly racket
of the chain saws, those cruel barbaric weapons ‘gainst somnolent nature, and I thought, Could it be that tree? The old oak which had stood like a seventy foot high king for God knows how long in my neighbors’ yard. I could see for some time it was dying, with a paucity of leaves the last few years but trees can take a long time to die—and so I told myself, he’ll make it another year…. And perhaps he would have but my neighbors must have tired of the near leafless tree and so called in the butchers. But when I left my house and walked past their yard now sawdust strewn, and saw the empty sky where the oak had once held court... I mourned. |
NOLO SEGUNDO, became a published poet in his 8th decade in over 210 literary journals in 17 countries. A retired teacher, he has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and thrice for the Best of the Net. His reflect the awareness he gained when he had an NDE whilst nearly drowning in a Vermont river: that he has, or rather is a consciousness predating birth and surviving death, what poets since Plato have called the soul.
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