No chorus-flock waits atop this spindle-limbed tree as we watch the dawning, just one lone bird, his feathers tucked, sits in sullen silence, mourning. —C.L. Fisher, August 2021 Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.
The limp leaves that begin to curl before drying on the limb and letting go, the bark that fissures and cracks, peeling back from the trunk, the sap that seeps and runs to cover a wound or release disease, the canopy that sags in drought or after a heavy spring storm — in this worldContinue reading “Trees Weep, Too”