by Pete Mackey
The tree has settled itself
into the pond mid-winter
weary of the ceaseless winds,
and the icy surround gathers,
the stilled twigs silver
and wasted below. Spring thaw
will change it all, the feeding
on the roots, the flesh, the buds
caught swelling on the verge—
but now the setting sun
stretches the blackness on grey
frozen, with daylight drowned.
photo credit: Ricardo Gomez Angel, Unsplash
Farmer-ish 