You dig it up.
It’s been buried for years –millions of them.
It used to be trees.
They must have been beautiful.
You burn it.
Dark blue on sky blue.
People see things.
Beautiful things.
Some people
claim to see trees.
Others stare into the ashes
Trying to rekindle the memoryOf a moment’s warmth.
Andrew McCallum Crawford, Scotland
6 comments:
Oh my....calls to mind the coal fires of my youth.
This is really nice. I grew up in the coalfields of West Virginia, USA, and this reminds me of that.
Very nice poetry and the blog,Love it very much.My blog is also very wonderful,you can visit it.
Cute! That was really lovely.
always a dilema that one when tree perish accidentally or wilfully
lovely poem
much love...
Very nice. Love the last stanza.
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