Evergreen

a Spenserian sonnet

The evergreen upon the mountainside
It's browning roots exposed to wind and rain
the liquid mud, it fills the textured hide
The tree stands tall, despite the crushing strain

In Spring, the birds adorn with nests in plain
pale twigs with twisted string and plucked soft down
The water trickles and life starts again
It cycles through the seasons--round and round

My friend, you stand amongst the trees, a crown
upon your head. The days grow long and hard
You wish that you were dead, lay your pain down—
The light grows dim as life has less rewards

The tree is old compared to you and I
Find joy in each new burden, never cry

Cyn Bagley ©2024 Dec 27, 2024