Branching Out

Image courtesy of gardentreeslandscape

Slumber Leaves

There is a tree on my front lawn

where all the mourning doves are drawn.

They caw, they woot and even peep.

What’s in my tree won’t let me sleep.

Some gusts whip branches high atop

this tree, now banging without stop.

Between the doves and branches … *bleep*!

What’s in my tree won’t let me sleep.

And just when I might think, ‘That’s it,’

cicadas in my tree transmit

‘cicada song.’  I want to leap.

What’s in my tree won’t let me sleep.

At last, I doze, but not for long.

Woodpeckers?!  Buzzing bees?!  Wind gong?!

They join the noisefest as I weep.

What’s in my tree won’t let me sleep.

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Metaphorest

“You can’t sit in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you.  You have to go to them sometimes.” ~Winnie the Pooh

A canopy of leaves may arc

above my head.  Tree limbs and bark

may give me shelter, but I know

my friends are waiting.  Gotta go.

That old bear understood the need

which says, ‘Once anchored, then proceed

to branch out.  Life is waiting.’ So…

my friends are waiting.  Gotta go.

A forest corner’s safe…secure,

but only briefly.  Trees obscure

the view until their leaves will blow.

My friends are waiting.  Gotta go.

A metaphor can only state

the obvious, so let’s translate:

I’ve got my roots; now I must grow.

My friends are waiting.  Gotta go.

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Notes:  Poetic Asides' PAD Challenge sported a two-fer today:  trees and forests.  Both of my poems, are you might have already figured out, are Kyrielles.