Looking out my apartment window,
I see most of the tree leaves
have turned a crinkly brown,
died and been blown off the trees.
But some leaves refused to surrender
to the cold winter purges
and remain a lively green on the trees
like resistant rebels of nature.
I ponder these leaves clinging to life
and wonder how they survived
the winter purges that killed so many.
I think maybe the trees they lived on
aided them in their survival
somehow protecting them from
the yearly seasonal slaughter
of all the fallen dead leaves.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
80, last Piscean month, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, long ago from MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life, feeling fantastic and eternally youthful, always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional, some are not.
I write about Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, Historical events like The Burning Times, Fictional Characters I Create, and much more . I write a minimum of 3 poems daily.
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