When All The Trees Are Gone
written by: Greg Massey
@PoemCrafter
A grim northeaster serves only to provide tales to be passed along
to those, who are wise, to heed while in their mortal state.
Living fables, they are, with truth in their roots – those strands of their being that nurture substance,
and character,
to withstand the elements.
Fall prey to their foresight,
for when they are removed from our physical presence,
Memories,
as precious as they are,
serve only as monuments of their former existence.
As tall as Redwoods,
and strong as oaks,
they are to those of us
they leave behind.
Like the gentle whisper of a willow,
we hear their voices upon each passing breath of the tide’s turn,
as we wait to see their shadows at each sunrise.
Grow tall among the heavens.
Branch high above the stars.
Spread wide within those you’ve left behind.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This piece finds me at a time when loved ones are on the brink of passing from this existence to the next. While driving home from work and thinking about my aunt and grandmother, about their possible departures from planet earth, I noticed trees being chopped down in order for concrete and asphalt to be poured for dwellings to be erected. Forests, and those people we love, cannot be replaced once they are gone. Love them, take care of them, while they are here.
He obtained his B.A. in Liberal Arts from the University of MS and an M.A. in English/Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University.
Greg is an English professor at Northwest Community College.
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