
The wizened branches
of a leaf-barren tree
matted thick with debris
from years of standing
in the ever-changing wind,
keeping its mark between
the long-faded gray grasses
and a dark-cloud sky,
and somehow I understood
its post, waiting, fallow,
strong but aged, a life-lived,
but still some memories to come,
mature roots holding it in place,
and spindly hands reaching beyond.
—C.L. Fisher, January 2022
Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.