Aged
Footed by roots not thick
nor deep- but small.
Skewed spirals lacking
porous draw -I wondered-
What support could they offer?
The ground beneath was
buckling around the giant
weak thing. Its grey
skin that hung in
sheets revealed
the bark beetle's lines
traversed beneath. The
circumference of it
covered in grooves
of woodpecker
workings; erratic
scrapes now
moss filled with age.
Largely leafless and
squatted and hunched
it held fast to two wiry
copper fronds. They held
on by threads- the last remnants
of what used to thrive on
the grey blotched body.
Broken and dry; some lowly
caterpillar's food.
Some days they twitched in
gusts- losing their grip
looser and looser.
Still never have I seen
one fall as it knocked and
leaned closer to
my sill-
Now it cowers close to the
ground- Time has forced it there.
It leans waiting old and crooked;
turns black with rot and burl.
If it had been much stronger,
I would have strapped a swing
upon it. There was a tree
in the yard for as long
as I could remember.
Caleb Seay, 27, was born in Clarksville, Tennessee. He attended Austin Peay State University and currently resides in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida as an active poet and musician. Caleb is currently writing and producing his first solo album as well as collaborating for a photography/music installation with a Clarksville artist.
Footed by roots not thick
nor deep- but small.
Skewed spirals lacking
porous draw -I wondered-
What support could they offer?
The ground beneath was
buckling around the giant
weak thing. Its grey
skin that hung in
sheets revealed
the bark beetle's lines
traversed beneath. The
circumference of it
covered in grooves
of woodpecker
workings; erratic
scrapes now
moss filled with age.
Largely leafless and
squatted and hunched
it held fast to two wiry
copper fronds. They held
on by threads- the last remnants
of what used to thrive on
the grey blotched body.
Broken and dry; some lowly
caterpillar's food.
Some days they twitched in
gusts- losing their grip
looser and looser.
Still never have I seen
one fall as it knocked and
leaned closer to
my sill-
Now it cowers close to the
ground- Time has forced it there.
It leans waiting old and crooked;
turns black with rot and burl.
If it had been much stronger,
I would have strapped a swing
upon it. There was a tree
in the yard for as long
as I could remember.
Caleb Seay, 27, was born in Clarksville, Tennessee. He attended Austin Peay State University and currently resides in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida as an active poet and musician. Caleb is currently writing and producing his first solo album as well as collaborating for a photography/music installation with a Clarksville artist.