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.