Prayer
Grant me deep roots.
Solid branches.
Let the fires pass me by.
Let generations of squirrels,
blue jays, butterflies
cling to my limbs.
Let me drink fog, chew sunlight
and look down
over centuries.
..
.
Slightly revised from Son of a Poet.
© copyright 2009 by Joe Cottonwood
Oh I am liking the way you use words Mister Cottonwood and I am wanting now to be a tree.Lovely, you. Just lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sarah. I'm glad you like them.
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