Old Wood
Rough and gray,
Crawled over
By a century of bugs and birds
Limbs as big as trees,
Each worthy of a life of its own.
High, in a trunk or a knot,
Some ancient crack creaks.
It stands a monument to nature,
Lost in the forest.
Leafless in winter
Except for a few brown danglers
Spring is but a storm away,
As on its arms
Buds new as tomorrow appear.
Soon a green harvest
Will sway through the long days.
May you too
Find new buds springing from your old wood.
© Dennis Price 2015
Dennis Price is a father, husband, general contractor, producer of the Radio Hotline, and an aspiring children’s book author. He has a cat and lives in Arlington, VA.
very upbeat