WEEPING FOR AN OLD FRIEND

oak-tree-143043532

In the storm’s aftermath
we search for candles
and check for damage.
The venerable oak came down
in slow agony,
rattling the windows
and our nerves.

I weep in silence
for the loss of my friend:
mute reminder
of my children climbing
and laughing
among leafy branches.

I am left with an ache
as when my best friend
moved away.
Grieving is useless,
but I still grieve.
The tree is gone
only a hole remains.

Revised 1996

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