Sunlight cascades through clouds,
pushing to earth, demanding to find land
no matter the season. Two trees
separated by brown grass and silence
ache for warmth or a melting touch
of companionship or at least life
to interrupt the isolation.
But still the light comes, through clouds
or night or some other wretched evil
may obscure its beauty, a veil
they’ll shirk today
or tomorrow or some other blissful day.
We need only remind ourselves
tree branches do not stay empty,
nor birds quiet, nor the world dull
and hateful. Monstrous monotony may
move us to seclusion
alone through the trees. Its end nears
Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019
Written for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt. Read all the other responses at her Daily Echo!