In my yard is a dead tree,
All the leaves have fallen;
The tree just stands there,
Dead to the world;
With its bear branches,
Creaking in the fall breeze;
In my yard is a dead tree,
The dead branches screech,
From the weight of winter's snow;
The dead tree groans,
With each winter blast;
In my yard is a dead tree,
The tree cries as winter passes;
The branches quiver;
With the breath of spring;
The life returns to the dead tree,
Little buds and leaves grow;
The tree that was dead is now alive,
The bear branches are full of live;
In my yard is a living tree.
A contest entry
- Impulse by throwing the rocks.
1000 points, ended May 22, 2007, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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