Dryad

Made manifest in evening gloom
she and her tree lean together
roots awash with flooding
strain and pain her
others reach branches
and grasping twigs
to the stricken one
but wood is not muscle
dryads are not women
to push and pull
nothing can be done
once upright and bold
they lean now together
until they fall

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

This poem is a response to the painting shown below:

2 thoughts on “Dryad

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