SONNET TO A LONELY TREE

Thoreau said we need to fine-tune our hearts to nature. Amen to that!

 

The woods devoid of color: Mark it well,

For even blind, precise to say, on Earth

We’d mourn the colorless and call it hell.

One tree still standing at its forest birth

Is naked, quiet in its solitude,

Its ending branches turned upward like palms

In quest of mercy. Once this tree was wooed

By nesting sparrows, now it begs for alms.

The skin of trunk is burned beneath cruel heat

And dusk in these meadows cools not the air.

Fresh tracks of running deer on paths to greet

A silhouetted tree traced here is rare;

yet crickets come and chirp their lullabies,

A sign that spring-like bloom will brighten skies.

 

Reviews

[Lorraine]

I have nothing better to say but well done. I hope I can write a sonnet of this level. It was a relaxing read.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Nancy Lee Shrader]

Well Done! Congrats on your second win for this winning poem!

[Nancy Lee Shrader]

Congrats on your great winning Sonnet!