
Someone with knowledge
could save this wreck of a tree,
planted back when water
seemed limitless
and rain fell
with some regularity.
This old Russian Olive
remains stubbornly productive,
giving off leaves and shoots and
and anemic branches.
Still, it is beautiful
in the way resilient
things are.
Defiant, the tree
makes its imprint on Father sky,
an ‘I’m not done yet’ statement,
that encourages me
to say the same.
Lovely and poignant.
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I also am trying to follow the example of your tree, and be resilient in face of the challenges of aging. I have been decluttering home bit by bit to simplify my days and facilitate focusing on what is most important. Might the tree benefit from a similar gentle pruning?
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Pruning? Oh, yeah! and like so much of life, in need of a little shaking out 😊. In its heyday, the tree was full and flourishing, but drought and neglect have taken a toll. I think of the drought and neglect in my life as the past two years when it was so hard to be motivated and the work of doing the work. As most writers know, the first stroke of the pen or keystroke on the keyboard are the hardest.
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Indeed. I am alternately torant and ashamed of how little I write these days, when I have more than enough time. Especially compared to what I produced when I was working full time.
Maybe we have the sluggish residue of long Covid without knowing it? 🤔
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The Tree is lovely, Sharon! Thanks for sharing it. Karyl
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Thanks! Writing poetry makes me smile :).
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Love it Aunt Sharon!
Seth Conkle
>
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Thanks!
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