What is Left?

What is left

after all are bereft?

All have lamented

the nuts

and the strength of your wood.

What is left there

that is to the good?

They’ve forgotten your ways

and all your large days?

A sculpted relic

displays the color.

Stands alone

through Winters’ duller.

Winds did not hew,

but trimmed and toned

this remnant to

a rotworn bone.

Appears to have

not much purpose.

Home to few

inside the surface.

Still a marvel

if not a warning,

a reason to rhyme

on this bright morning.


Photo by Mar Startari, 2019

Maria Startari-Stegall