Crone Trees

Crone Trees





The ancient Mother Maples



Guard the less traveled road







Gnarled,  limbs



Misshapen by arthritis







Grand mothers in a line



Proudly displaying past glory



Offspring will have the maple syrup hoses







The Grandmothers knowing their end may be near



Stand in proud determination



While Autumn finery



Falls by the hour   







All will soon be skyclad



Though their feet will be shod



In blankets of leaves.



Winter snows will soon hug their branches.







The Grandmothers will sleep



Slowly awaken to yet another Spring.







Grandmothers, Grand Mothers



Wise Women, Crones



Count seasons, watch changes



But never alone.







DancingStar



October, 2007