A young red pine (Pinus resinosa) with spread of roots visible, as a result of soil erosion courtesy Emery under CC BY-SA 2.5 license

Summer predawn looms long,
grey creeps, lightens,
promises a sun slow to come.

Loon cries give way
to the call of song birds,
as the reluctant day dispels the night.

Sunlight on water creates it’s own magic,
awakens attention to the moment,
even as the past drips like dew

from trees whose memories
reach back, before
my grandmother’s birth.

Will their future outlast mine,
or has our presence ended theirs?

© 2019, Melissa Rendlen

Discussion is welcome! Thank you ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.