Spiral
The ponga tree outside my
bedroom window has
given birth to a new frond.
When uncurled its new
skin is emerald green and
edged with soft brown fur.
From today I will watch
this tiny soft promise of
life unfurl, extend its
fingers to the light.
Its backbone will grow
strong enough to support
leaves cut out like
chains of paper snowflakes.
It will block the sun
through my window as it
arches towards the sky.
This tiny spiral I reach
up to and cup in my hand
contains larger beginnings
and endings in its tightly
wound and supple limb.
Its greatness can not
be measured by
assessment of its
outer circle alone.
The ponga tree outside my
bedroom window has
given birth to a new frond.
When uncurled its new
skin is emerald green and
edged with soft brown fur.
From today I will watch
this tiny soft promise of
life unfurl, extend its
fingers to the light.
Its backbone will grow
strong enough to support
leaves cut out like
chains of paper snowflakes.
It will block the sun
through my window as it
arches towards the sky.
This tiny spiral I reach
up to and cup in my hand
contains larger beginnings
and endings in its tightly
wound and supple limb.
Its greatness can not
be measured by
assessment of its
outer circle alone.
3 comments:
I love the ending of this one. And the beautiful photo. I can tell NaPoWriMo is going to bring a feast of poems to read from everyone.
Very beautiful and eye catching photo. The poem is nice. Good write.
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