My mind is like a March tree in the fog.
Its display of life is obscured by the cold, wet clouds clinging to the ground.
Thoughts land on the bare branches like birds looking for a place to rest but finding none.
The tree is reaching towards the gray, featureless sky with gnarled, crippled hands.
Eventually the sun will rise and burn away the fog and the world is seen clearly again.
The buds on the branches can be made out as they struggle to burst forth with life.
Thoughts and birds have sought out shelter elsewhere and left this tree quiet and living.
After a time, the tree that is my mind will be full of life again.
The wind of life will blow through its leaves like the sound of gods, calling travelers to sit in its shade and cool comfort.
Once the tree awakens, it will never sleep again.
March 30, 2009 at 8:40 pm
I love it.
April 10, 2009 at 10:18 pm
That is beautifully written Mr., keep it up.