Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Bertha Rogers: Copper Beech Trees in Winter

Leaves arc, like paintings of blown leaves;

like cut paper, like sunset strewn

across red-gold sky, like smoldering fires;

serrate-edged, notched, like some knives.

But they cut only the hard wind,

the wind that tries to bridge them.

Wind can’t; these trees are too feisty;

they do not hide in niches or ditches;

they flaunt, they claim rough edges.

Farmers name beeches weeds; they push

through field soil. Their roots patiently wait,

shove worker-laid stones, open faces.

December disrupts, beats black branches,

feathered, fingered twigs; they’re like pens

writing winter’s aggregate history;

black barriers; hinged nodes above snow,

hanging on against blizzard breath;

hanging on all the scarred, bleak season.


Copyright 2018 Bertha Rogers. First published in From the Finger Lakes Poetry Anthology. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author.

.

Beech Tree, Snow, The Downs, Bristol, England

Leave a Reply

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.

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 10,372 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 3,489,286 hits

Archives

%d bloggers like this: