A tree falls in the forest.
I hear it
Grey knotted skin
The windstorm too much to withstand.
A young neighbour breaks the fall.
Held gently in fresh green boughs
Making room for new growth
It humbly passes.
I hear it.
An old woman dying in her bed.
I hold her
This life too long for weary bones.
Granddaughter strokes her hair.
Hands in hands
Clearing the way for the next generations
She silently passes.
I hold her.
|With my grandma many years ago.|
©Conni Cartlidge, 2014