By Andrew R. Duckworth
It’s a branching tree symphony-
Twists and twigs interlocking,
Birds perched, singing free
But the rough bark ever mocking.
And death’s frozen tongue
Tastes the bitter leaves,
Freezing air from winter lungs
And all of nature grieves.
But death won’t have a final word
When some day in the spring
Nature, so long gone unheard,
Makes life begin to sing.
How fickle life can sometimes be.
It’s a branching tree symphony.
Poetry of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 