Trees stark against the sky
show signs of hard pruning
or scars of storm damage
Sunlight shafts through leafless woods
reveals which wild seeded
and which are straight lined planting
The artificial brightnesses of our Decembers
do not touch this hard solitude
as we all wait for the future
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
This is a reworking of a poem I wrote (and blogged) in 2017. I was never sure of the ending, and I like this version better.
I was inspired to go back to this poem by the weekly prompt at Earthweal, which is all about Nadirs and Zeniths.