Leveler Poetry Journal
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The Tree That Would Not Turn

 

This year the maple by the condo complex

stayed fresh and green beyond October, odd

as an old woman in a flowery dress

standing lonely at the buffet table.

Good, I thought. Defiance. A declaration

of freedom from the universal law

of inevitable decline. Why should it be

that all things hasten toward their end? I take

no comfort in the witness of such blather.

 

It was, in fact, disease. When I passed by

today, nothing, a brown circle in the grass.

The wiser ones who cut it down knew best,

and my imaginings did not apply




Conrad Gellar