Monday, March 5, 2012

Poem: The Arbor

The Arbor

In winter,
all the protective coloration falls
and you are exposed,
no longer coddled in your garden of green,
every wrinkle and pain
on display, bare
to wind and rain,
no longer safe,
or hidden,
you sit on the bench
and pray for spring.


The picture was taken a few years ago in Williamsburg, Va. You can click on it for a larger version.


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