Interlaced branches shred the sunlight,
fallow arms reaching upward,
winter has come.
Intricate weavings cling high above
exposed and barren.
The wind picks up a feather
and I watch it sail.
Remnants of birth... remnants of life...
deserted nests.
A darkness on the brittle field,
once a passageway to safety
now a bedroom door
for whatever sleeps below.
The wind rattles dry leaves,
a rustling song about home. This is the planet of my birth
this is my home, my earth.
The seasons have changed;
the nurturing breast of nature
has withered, awaiting renewal.
Yet, I feel her holding me,
I feel I belong; I feel...
...home.
Notes
Prompt: "The earth is what we all have in common." - Wendell Berry
27 lines
107 words
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