Today they're removing
section by section,
the old sycamore
next to the church.
For three summers
I've stared from my bedroom
at its buds, birds
and complicated leaves.
For three winters
I've watched from my window
its bare branches
scratching the sky.
Now the view is clear -
the open sea
and all her promises.
Time to set sail.
1 comment:
Nice. When something is gone, the view opens up. You didn't dwell on your feelings of loss, but focused on the stirrings of adventure. Reminds me of my favorite Haiku,
Since my house burnt down
I own a better view
of the rising moon.
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