Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
LC Apr 2022
dew rests on sheer leaves
as saplings lilt in the wind  
and I follow suit.
Escapril Day 21! Prompt: dew.
I have been tired lately, and this poem was inspired by that. I hope you are all doing well.
Jet Jan 2021
And it waited a moment longer than a moment’s pause

It was rain resisting its temper, attempting tenderness

Each drop the poignant pain in a patient bladder
when you hold to hear the end
of a song in a play or a whisper behind you
despite your body insisting you must leave

Then, it drowned the saplings in the gutter

a violent politeness
an apology for impeding
a housewarming gift
JT Nelson Jun 2019
The forest behind my neighbor’s garage
Is ten feet wide and thirty feet long
But is full of different types of life

In summer the leaves grew full and thick
Filling the space with shades of green
The ground is dark and mysterious

But in winter the spires of lean saplings
Poke out of bright snow in numbers
Like pins in a white cushion for grandma

The cardinals glide through
The squirrels hide nuts
The finches flutter
All in plain view of my kitchen window
The forest behind my neighbor’s garage.
Keiya Tasire Jan 2019
On the land of our family
Are the ashes of generations.
Each generation planted with the saplings of the trees  
The Cedar, The Fir, The Larch, and The Mountain Ash
Standing regal in the sun's early light.

It is a new day
Standing under their boughs
Comforted by ancestral arms touching
In a circle of Love and Light.

What is emerging?
Sprouting up from under the Sphagnum  
It's a seed! Raising its head
Peeking up, and stretching towards the sun.

Ever upward it expands
Though nights of rain and clouds.
Through days of heat and seeming drought.

Yet the seedling grows and endures
Bent by the late summer winds
The fiber of wisdom ever increasing within its core.

At the end of Indian Summer
The frost begins to unleash its chill
The young sapling freezes
As the blanket of white thickens across the land.

With the weight upon it's back
In humility the sapling bends low to kiss the earth.
Bravely holding this asana in the coldest of the winter days.

Today by my window
I am basking in the sunlight of a very early spring,
Bright are shimmering reflections of sunlight snow.

Squinting, with eyes half open and eyes half closed
The small rainbows begin to dance
Between each pair of lashes.
A delighted inner child
Chuckling with joy.

I can hear the sound of water running  
And ice falling from the rooftops above.
The snow is finally melting!

The tall cedar boughs dance with the wind.
Up and down, releasing their winter coats
As Ice crystals floating on the air.

Gazing across the white wonder
To the very spot where I last saw our little tree
What of the little seedling?
Is it still alive?
Or broken and crush by the ice and snow?
My musing over the Cedar Sapling
Shifted with a gasping surprise
It sprung up!
Announcing "I am still alive!"
And my inner voice giggled with delight.

Hum, I wonder
Do trees have a heart?
Do they perceive beyond their bark?
Do they remember?
In this very moment the sapling's sudden appearance
During my musing seemed to express, "Yes!"

Is it just a deep enduring feeling
That the elders of this world
Are the 400+ year old Cedars
Keeping their long record of time?

My dear little sapling
may you continue to grow into magnificence.
I will only see your first 100 years.

For your last four hundred
Allow me to lie at your roots
Under the Sphagnum from which you sprung.

And my children will water flowers at your base
That you may grow as the guardian of the ancestor
Who planted your seed and watched you grow.

Yes, the very one who is now delighted that you
Have popped up from under your blanket of snow.
The winter is giving to an early spring here where we live. There is a young sapling outside my kitchen window I have watched for two years now. This is the second season I have watched it pop up out from under the blanket of snow that has covered it thickly each winter. I am amazed at its flexibility, strength, endurance and tenacity. As the years pass I will continue to watch over this little tree with the desire that it will watch over me when I have passed and my body has been laid to rest.
Holey Aug 2017
There is always a splash of color
In a room full of gray
a stream of sound
In a quiet room.
Nothing is one thing
and always isn’t a promise
Thank you
For being that color.

— The End —