Spiky, a mass of spikes more threatening than sharp -
what are they fending off, what are they protecting
so fiercely with their green carapace like a thoughtful womb,
dropping their hidden beauties in reflective autumn
...
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I never thought of poems and trees this way; very original. Definitely 'more threatening than sharp, ' which can be taken oh so many different ways! If I ever find this tree, I may just sit myself under it and listen to the breeze read to me through the branches. I wonder how it would sound... Cheers, Lori
He stoops to conker? There's a distinct shortage of them this year, I hear! Danny
Is this what you think, M? (I will confess, by the way, that I had to look up 'carapace'. And I bet I'm not the only one) . Your second stanza is the one I prefer to go by. Sad. Harsh. Harsh but true? If you say so - you loving, warm oaktree, amid cacti. t x