Gnarled

Shadings of blue
rise and arch and dip
into the fuzzy forests
of the horizon.

A large twisted tree stands solitary,
ruling the knoll,
dramatic against the clouds.

Like an old woman
who has kept her pride
while losing all contact with her kind.

Yet not so lonely perhaps
verdant grass and moss
surround her trunk,
a robin creates a nest
with her cast off twigs...


...but no, she holds herself aloft
up in her sanctimonious realm.

When the wind embraces
she only backs away.