Frank Wilson

Poem of the Month

 

Two Trees

 

Under a wind-beaten millstone grit wall

in your wide-armed care

I have laughed, loved, slept and even cried

myself away from vain fear and conflict

through pain and discontent

and have come back time and time again.

 

You were the constant earth-bonded pair

headless of seasonal change

I was the one searching for less uncertainty

needing a no questions asked escape

a place in which to hope

to see the greater view from better perspective.

 

You whispered when it was my time to leave

and leg-stretch miles away

to those dried out plains and humid hinterlands

to different people other challenges

and a chance to grow

away from the young man who used you as refuge.

 

You turn your heads away from prevailing gales

as autumn retreats again

and frost paints into and onto the strong-built wall

before the first high ground flurries

bring a cold announcement

of the dark days and wild nights of the season’s turning.

 

Yet your winter silhouettes are there still

like signposts to elsewhere

clinging on in heavy clay above the crumbled edge

by the thinking hoping bench

and the five-barred gate

that I pushed wide open all those many years ago.

 

 

Story of the Month

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