21This elegy is dedicated to the little field behind my house...
Branded, barren, broken, brown
Brittle branches cascade down
Is nature's force sentenced to drown
In tides of stone and shingles?
No vernal flowers dot the hill
Though birds frequent with voices shrill
Something has made the land here ill
And kept it so for years.
But where trees fell and turned to dust,
Bright grasses through the brambles thrust,
Abandoned metal turns to rust-
The hill's awash with green.
Dead bodies bridge the rivulets
Now dry from water flow upset
Left standing is the silhouette
Of fifteen feet of splintered trunk.
Ten years since it has died have passed
Alone it rises o'er the grass
Any day may be its last
And then it too will topple over.
I wish to see this field alive
How I wish I could revive
This place where bats and swallows thrive
But pretty little else.
Brambles, once abundant, died
Planted pines and redwoods tried
But the promising green grass had lied
And shattered verdant dreams.
Branded, barren, broken, brown
All that once grew up came down
In this great earth sentenced to drown
In tides of stone and shingles.
I haven't written a poem in quite a while. o_o Hope you enjoyed it.