these trees stand taller
than ambition’s
figments thwarted
by cruel twists of fate
reflections mellowed
in late autumn
they are huge things
towering without
malice it seems
but brittle ends to
dead limbs say
take heed –
once I meant to cut
them down – astride
a line between propriety
and pragmatism
you understand
but failed
I learned
trees have more
friends than enemies –
and to live in their shade
is a privilege
rarely earned
© 15 July 2009, I. D. Carswell
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