Every poet needs a poem tree. I drafted this about ten years ago and it just recently resurfaced in one of my journals. I'm open to any and all help. It does seem to wander a bit. What do you see? Dewell
POEM TREE IN AUTUMN
The old Ponderosa Pine
in my front yard stands solid
against weather's worst.
It blocks my view of Mount Pitt,
challenges me to find
the poems it harbors.
It carpets my lawn
with toast-brown needles,
chunks of dark bark,
cones big as my head;
plugs my nose with pollen.
It sharpens the wind for winter,
teaches me new words for loss
in the language of nature.
Under a steel-wool mewling sky
birds rest in its branches
and await the sun's signal.
If I sit quietly and listen,
it sings of autumn,
drops a casual phrase to my pen.
-Dewell H. Byrd
POEM TREE IN AUTUMN
The old Ponderosa Pine
in my front yard stands solid
against weather's worst.
It blocks my view of Mount Pitt,
challenges me to find
the poems it harbors.
It carpets my lawn
with toast-brown needles,
chunks of dark bark,
cones big as my head;
plugs my nose with pollen.
It sharpens the wind for winter,
teaches me new words for loss
in the language of nature.
Under a steel-wool mewling sky
birds rest in its branches
and await the sun's signal.
If I sit quietly and listen,
it sings of autumn,
drops a casual phrase to my pen.
-Dewell H. Byrd