Thready, bare limbs, a few scant leaves hold fast.
Live Oaks, near stripped of leaves, their neighbors fill.
I pray that drought, neglect won’t spur demise.
Majestic guards who welcome guests with shade
throughout each year, repelling frost and sun.
To lose them now when they are needed most
would change my home, and wound my caring self.
We age like that– a halting step, dark spots
a brush that fills with hair, split nails.
We want the sun but fear a fall, a chill.
Then Spring comes in with fragrant flowered breath
And we arise to wave our arms and dance.
In rainbow shirts we frolic in the park
We braid our hair with daisies and we sing!
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 3.29.2014