Karalee McAskill


The Trees struggle to survive it.
Clinched on to every last leaf undeniably aware of their passing away.
A slumber awaits Her.
Each seed planted in accordance to Natures way.
The Crisp breeze strikes a homeless bark.
Where there is an empty nest is a broken heart.
And suddenly, like everyone knew it was to happen, a Fury Filled wind Storm embarks on its journey into Her fate.
The branches intertwine with one another,
the squirrels and jays are no more.
A strong gust knocks the breath from her trunk as each leaf began falling to the ground, later to strengthen her roots in time.
There is No sound, There is no Light,
But there is Great movement indicating Life.
Some branches lay broken and torn, Some leaves left crisp and dry to the stems.
And once the storm is over- a stillness is of consciousness.
A warm Sun is Bare to Her.
Slowly one by one the jays flirt about her, and the squirrels scour her base for seeds.
And like a drying drizzle of rain, The tree begins to sleep.
For it is autumn.

For My Uncle Kenny XOXOXO

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