Monday, April 19, 2010

In Celebration of Earth Day. We can all learn a lot from trees, if only we take the time to listen.


Shimmering moonlight
gently touches the bare arms
of a rich novel, a sea of stories.
A hundred years of memories are held
In the palm of its oak hand,
where in a garden of ash it grew.
Fierce winter gusts nip at the brittle bark.
Beneath, sap of sorrow
lie frozen in the sleeping veins that once
carried a river of sweet candy
to its now frost bitten limbs of gold.
Miles of endless roots stretch far beyond
buried secrets that keep
it firmly planted, solid and immovable
in the dead ground, beneath the surface,
and soiled by the decay of time.
It's so hard to believe
that all of this
came from nothing more than
an anonymous, fragile
child of green: a tiny seed.

By Terrah Coon


pamannie said...

What a beautiful poem. And I'm sending you a Twitter hello :)

Judy said...

This is a poem written by my dear friends teenage daughter, she is a very old soul. Love ya Terrah

Amanda Kelsey said...

Lovely. Very well written. She should enter it in some publishing contest.