There is a row of dwarf trees tangled with proximity. Their gnarled, arthritic branches scratch painfully at the wind. On each black and spindly bough, from the scars of fallen leaves, hang clusters of bright berries, like beloved ornamets of forgotten holidays, and the crows feed upon them as if it were meant a gift.
God. It's beautiful how the "Smolens" are all connected. But this poem is a gem and most meaningful. Thank you for sharing your gift. Love and peace to you.
and it was a gift, just as this lovely poem is to us.
Reviewed by Kevin Mc Crum (Reader)
Reviewed on September 16, 2004
Roxanne,
This poem belies description. It is the essence of poetry! So much vision, depth, color, emotion, and intention all wrapped together in so few, yet well chosen words. Truly wonderful work!!!
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Regis
Love you bunches,
Shell
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :(
This poem belies description. It is the essence of poetry! So much vision, depth, color, emotion, and intention all wrapped together in so few, yet well chosen words. Truly wonderful work!!!
Lisa