These open wounds fill over time.
Spongy umbrellas held high, prospective tenants
look upon the cracked stump, climb it, reach inside
Shelved cities spill out.
a family – two parents, one child –
stand ready at the mulchy base
while cousins look on
in rain caps.
to treasure seekers, wanderers.
Those who scuttle, flit, crawl.
Proud of the dead bark
and the breath it still holds.
This poem is part of my #52weeksofnaturepoetry project to raise funds for UK wildlife charity RSPB and to encourage an appreciation for nature. If you enjoyed it, please consider sharing it and/or donating to the RSPB via my Just Giving page here.
Help keep wildlife wild.