Bent Trees

"Bent Trees"

This scene before my eyes
is an artist's paradise,
seeing and knowing by heart
this linear treeline design,
my friend would find
it perfect in his camera lens
had we not been apart:

Blue-gray mist frozen
on the horizon
is more than a sheer curtain
behind the solitary tree.
I can see,
yet to the side,
a stand of oak, sassafras,
and pine
there in the snow,
veiled in that same
frosty cloak of destiny
left by the Cherokee spirit
of long ago.

         Legend tells us
         how young trees were bent
         on this winter Trail.
         Not at their best,
         the weary tribe was spent
         as they trekked to new and
         unfamiliar homes West.

As I yield
on this forest edge of their eternity,
I am moved to visit
the sacred place in the snowy wood
alone.
Never a disgrace,
nor should
I feel out of place,
among my own.
My respects to The People
are evident, as I pay homage with my tears.
Down through the years
they are loved, never forgotten.

Their solemn spirit I know
is clear,
when out steps
three deer.
One as white as
the new fallen snow.