Stiff, Ugly and Bent

Now the lawn outside
is more cluttered
more dull with yellow leaves
than the week before.

A weakened tree stands
but wilts, mopes,
slouches and droops
its remaining leaves
on half-naked limbs,
slumping into
wicked sadness
of dreaded winter.

Long knurling limbs,
skinny knob knuckles
bent like witch's claws
screeching silently,
scraping the blackboard
of the night sky.

Stiff, ugly and bent
resembling dreadlocks
as old man winter
approaches and mutes
this tree to hibernate
down to its graveness.


(Note: This poem was originally written in 2005. Revised in 2007.)