Today, I Walk Alongside the Dying Trees

 Today, I walk alongside the dying trees
 lamenting.
 I hear the faint sound of roots
 burrowing.
 The ground is warm, but the air is not
 relenting.
 
 Just last week, the orange, red and purple display exploded,
 Independence Day, a close rival of its color. 
 The tree a brilliant gold.
 The sky a vivid blue.
 Flawless in celebration.
 
 Today, silence surrounds just a slight
 murmuring.
 A loud crackle beneath my steps a life
 waning.
 A Wintering sun shears the tips of brown grasses,
 settling.
 
 Even the bowing evergreens, with their raglan arms,
 retreat like sleeping animals, wait for the warmth
 of dawn. Dream of the only thing that matters.
 The first signs, the budding seedlings
 of their long--forgotten Spring.
  
 
 Susan Ward Trestrail, 2016
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