We’ll wait and see, but chances are… (Poetic thought by GeorgeB)
Detached from the dormant tree
All the dried leaves have fallen but one…a special one,
for unknown reasons…
The winds didn’t detach it,
nor did the cold rains,
the freezing breezes of December or
the early mornings’ icy crystals of frozen water…
all these barely scratched new tears
upon its dried out reddish-brown, wrinkled face…
Will it survive the winter?
Will it hang around till spring?
Will it be the exceptional leave its home, no matter what?
Will it be the last of the survivors, born on the death list,
in the country of the dead,
under the symbols of the crossed sickle-n- hammer?
We’ll wait and see, but chances are…
(Transmission interupted here)
(Poetic thought by GeorgeB) HERE